


Call of An Ancient Sky

by Kalynne



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Angst, College of Winterhold - Freeform, Desire, Discovery, Elves, Embracing influence, F/M, Inner Struggle, Mages, Magic, Romance, emotional tension, finding yourself, power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22952575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalynne/pseuds/Kalynne
Summary: I come from an ancient line of Altmer elven nobility. My beautiful land is shrouded in magic, mystery and untold knowledge. My noble family holds powerful influence, and has raised me to become the finest and most eligible High Elf woman in the Summerset Isles. Do you envy me? You shouldn't. I am not what my heritage demands me to be. I am who I choose to be, who I am called to be - and it is far, far more than what they see. For I have been Called by the Wind. I am Azrielle.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ondolemar
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	1. The Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my very first fan fiction ever. This story has been with me for a long time, and can be found in various pages and notebooks throughout my house. Its something I've been working on in my spare time, when the mood takes me and is by no means a work of literary brilliance - however - I thought it would be nice to share it with others who, like me, just love to daydream about their wonderful characters from games. I'm not a regular writer, so these chapters will come as I have time to get them up. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy my little Skyrim story :)

My name is Azrielle Vitherion. Yes, that's an Altmer name. I am a High Elf, hailing from the Summerset Isles. I'm the only daughter of a noble house, with a prestigious and powerful reputation. I've been raised by masterful teachers, to be the finest eligible Altmer woman in the city. It all sounds very romantic, doesn't it? Do you envy me? Don't. Behind all the mystery, wonder, magic and noble culture, my people are cruel, ruthless, cold and over-ambitious. Don't mistake me, there are certain things about my people that I am very proud of; our intelligence being one of them. We are steeped in ancient knowledge which has been passed down though many generations. We know so much. And yet, what do we do with all that wisdom and power? We use it to crush other races, to put us above everyone else as "the superior mer"; as though we have a right to. It disgusts me.

We could be helping others, teaching them and equipping them so that they too can prosper! But with my people, there is little love to be shared with other races - even within our own. Relationships are nothing more than promising agreements between individuals or families, to garner influence and power. Bloodlines to strengthen magical potential. I am the product of one of those arrangements, myself. Now, my father desires the same fate for me. He has matched me with some gods-awful man from another powerful family - Gedrythion. He is a sneering, aloof and cruel Thalmor diplomat, of all things. He makes my skin crawl. My father declared in his imperious, flat tone that I had come of age and it was time to "expand our reach" once more.

I can't do it. I won't. Yet my father had kept an iron grip on my leash for years. From the moment I could talk, he has forced me into various lessons in order to groom me for greatness in every way. Swordplay, logic, history, magic, philosophy, geography, strategy and debate...everything he could think of. Why? - Because I am not the prized son he expected from my mother. I can't stand it. My poor, gentle mother can only quietly comfort me when no one is watching. She is the only thing that has kept me in this gods-forsaken place so far, but it is getting increasingly difficult to stay.

I have always found it strange,that I have never felt the blind loyalty for my people and my land as the other Altmer do. No, something has been constantly calling me away from here. I can't explain it no matter how hard I try to understand it. It tugs on my heart like a deep, distant drum. Sometimes, if I concentrate hard enough I can almost hear a rumbling, ancient chanting in a language I'm not familiar with. And yet, my entire being yearns to answer those voices. It is a primal, and powerful urge that leaves me a little breathless. This night, I have decided that the time has come. I must leave. I have no knowledge of where this strange calling will lead me, but I cannot stay here any longer. Even if it means I would have to leave my mother behind, along with all I've ever known...I must go.

Just as I made that decision, a cool calm settled over me, and a familiar focus took over. It felt right. I stilled myself and searched again for that calling within me once again. It didn't take long to find, I needed to get a sense for where this voice was telling me to go. Thrumming filled my ears, and there it was - the ancient chanting. I allowed the unfamiliar words to fill me, and held the question loosely in my mind. Slowly, I began to envision a vast, frozen land blanketed in white snow. Rolling, green tundras and mighty towering mountains flew by in my mind's eye. The ancient chanting grew louder in my ears, the pounding rhythm rocking within my chest as it became a roar in my head. My blood felt as though it were singing in my veins. I soared over the harsh and exquisite land filled with deep forests, cold rivers and forgotten ruins - and I felt home. A surging elation took me over, and I felt the wetness of a tear slide down my cheek. The chanting voices grew to a crescendo, and I felt a strange power rise up from an unknown well within me, until I could take no more.

My eyes flew open, and I clutched my chest, catching my breath. Still standing atop my balcony outside, I gasped. My midnight hair swirled wildly around my flushed face as a great gust of frigid wind whipped at my robes and tore through the garden. What in Oblivion was this? I turned from the freezing wind, wrapping my arms around myself, only to find my mother staring at me from my bedroom doorway. I froze. "Mother?" She didn't answer me. "What's wrong?" I asked, stepping toward her. As suddenly as the wind began... it ceased, falling into the usual balmy warmth of the Summerset Isles. I turned and frowned at the balcony again, before returning to my mother. I slowly took a few steps toward her, as she stared at me blankly. Yet, as I moved forward, she took a step back. I paused, my hand reaching for her. "Mother, what is the matter?" I asked again, quietly.

"Azrielle...what - what was that?" She finally responded, quickly closing my bedroom door behind her. I frowned, "The wind? I'm not entirely sure myself. I was just wondering where on earth it came from -"  
"Not just the wind, Azrielle. The magic you were performing; what was it? I've never seen anything like it before..." she interrupted, moving closer to me.

My mother's eyes revealed her age, as well as the ever-present worry, despite her youthful appearance. We looked almost identical; fair, angled features framed with onyx black hair falling around our shoulders and large, tilted golden eyes lined with dark lashes. Both tall, and elegant in stature. My mother saw my uncertainty, and took my cold hands in hers. Did I do some form of magic just now? That well of power, it must have finally revealed itself. The vision I had came back to me then, and I knew it was time to tell my mother about my intentions. I took a steadying breath, and gently pulled my mother to sit with me.

"Mother, I - I am not sure what just happened but, I need to tell you something and I just want you to listen, alright?" After a moment, she nodded and gently squeezed my hands. I began to explain the strange feelings I'd been experiencing for a long time - the ancient calling and visions of the foreign land. All the while, she sat quietly and simply nodded as she took in what I said. We spoke long into the night, she asked me questions and I answered the only way I could - honestly. Before she left my room that night, my mother promised to help me disappear.


	2. Person of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ondolemar's perspective: He meets Azrielle for the first time! 5 years have passed since she left the Summerset Isles.

Ondolemar rounded the corner and prepared to do his usual rounds of the stone keep, while his men continued to root out the Talos worshipers in the region. Reports came in all day, from every corner of the map. Nords were resilient, he'd give them that. He sighed. Another hollow, long day lay ahead of him. Markarth. Such a rigid, boring place to be stationed! Yet this was by his father's wishes, as always. One day perhaps, he would finally be able to stand up to him. One day.

As a captain of the Thalmor embassy, Ondolemar directed many of the plans to further the cause of the Aldmeri Dominion in Skyrim. He was still young by Altmer standards, but his skills in diplomacy and strategy were unparalleled and had seen him rise through the ranks quickly. The final promotion to Captain had been 'encouraged' by his father, of course. The older Mer was highly influential within the Dominion. Truthfully, Ondolemar hadn't really wanted to rise this high among the Thalmor. 

However, his father would surely disown him should he attempt to abandon the ambitions of his proud family. His face etched with disdain as usual, he made his way to see the Jarl for his weekly report. He blandly explained his updates and orders before turning to take his leave, when a hooded figure appeared at the end of the hallway. The newcomer paused at the guards' order, and words were exchanged. The stranger had come to see the Jarl no doubt. He couldn't yet tell what race she was, but the stranger held herself with confident grace. Uncharacteristically curious, Ondolemar delayed his departure from the hall. Strangers were very rarely welcomed into Markarth.

The housecarl quickly left to attend to her, then returned a moment later with the stranger in tow. Her face was still hidden within her hood. Ondolemar quietly took up position to one side of the Jarl in the corner of the room, and waited.

"My Jarl, this one is a scholar from Winterhold, come to address you." The housecarl announced. Jarl Igmund let out an annoyed sigh. Mages of Winterhold were barely tolerated, after being accused of causing the Great Collapse of the ancient city years ago. Igmund sniffed in distaste but gestured lazily at the stranger with a ringed hand.

"Well?" He huffed. “What brings you here?”

He was a cold, disinterested man who cared for nothing but the silver which ran through the Reach. Ondolemar was well-aware this man played no role beside that of a puppet leader for the Thalmor. Disapproval twisted sourly in his gut, but he held his silence. As much as he hated the methods, he understood that Markarth only remained standing because of the Aldmeri Dominion. These greedy, stubborn, and aggressive Nords would destroy the city if they were left to their own devices. There was too much valuable history and resources here to abandon it.

Ondolemar swallowed his grimace, pasting on the stiff, practiced mask he always wore when in the company of idiots. Igmund straightened himself enough to peer closer at the stranger, who now stood before him.

Slipping her hood off, the stranger bowed briefly with an elegant sweep; then rose and met Ondolemar’s eyes briefly. He stared back, still grasping his reports under an arm. An Altmer woman. Yet, he stilled because she was unlike any he had ever seen. Glossy tresses of jet-black hair framed a sharp-featured face, silver hoops glinted in one pointed ear, and finally her eyes - deep, golden, and full of knowledge, intelligence, and something else he couldn't quite place. 

She was not traditionally fair, according to Altmer society. He had seen many others who could be called that. No, there was an edge about her which gave an impression of danger; the unknown. He did not fail to notice the way the shadows played upon her face. And yet those eyes...those bright eyes took in every inch of the room and those within it. They saw all, absorbed all, memorized all. 

And as those very eyes settled on him for but a fleeting moment in all their intensity; Ondolemar felt unexplainably drawn to her. For the first time in his long life, Ondolemar missed a heartbeat. He was without a doubt staring at her, then those eagle eyes slid easily off him, and toward the Jarl. The moment had lasted for just a breath, yet Ondolemar felt it resonate throughout his body so thoroughly that he had to re-gather himself and focus. 

"My Jarl, I am Azrielle - a traveling scholar, and adventurer. I have come to the city seeking inspiration from Dwemer history. I believe this is the home of Calcelmo - the highest authority on the topic. I seek your permission to spend some time exploring Markarth and documenting my discoveries."

She spoke eloquently with a calm, confident tone; her gaze never leaving the Jarl's. He was sure that this woman may have had the same effect on the ruler, as he himself seemed slightly diminished in her presence and did not respond immediately as he usually would have. In fact, there was a flushed look about him now and he had sat up a bit straighter. 

He cleared his throat a little too loudly, then finally responded.

"You're Azrielle? My guards have notified me that you're the one who put the miners back to work yesterday. Is this true?" He asked stiffly, leaning forward on his elbows.

Ondolemar looked quickly from him to Azrielle, who stood easily with her hands clasped behind her back. She simply gave a nod. He frowned, she got rid of the group of Forsworn who had over-run the mine a few miles down the main road? Doubtful, he waited to hear more.

"It is, my Jarl. Those miners have homes and families to keep, I did only what was necessary as one able should do. I seek no reward, only freedom to learn all I can from this ancient city." She offered smoothly.

Usually, Ondolemar would have scoffed at such statements, yet her tone betrayed no jest or sarcasm. In fact, this woman was nothing but earnest. She meant every word, and he could see it in the determined set of her shoulders. Igmund looked somewhat taken aback at her blunt honesty, and clasped his hands uncomfortably.

Ondolemar continued to watch Azrielle with acute attention. The questions had begun brewing. Who was this woman? Where did she come from? What did she wish to achieve? Was she alone in her travels? What was she capable of? Could she be trusted? Every inch of her emanated mystery and power. Indeed, as he used his heightened Altmer eyes, the air just around her form seemed to quiver slightly. Was was that? He doubted anyone else could notice such a thing. As a mage himself, he recognised significant power when he came across it, and Azrielle pulsed with something more than that, he was sure.

Unable to resist, he opened his senses and sent an invisible tendril of his magic curling toward her to try and understand what it was he was feeling. The closer he got, the more intense this foreign power grew. A feather-light touch, and he felt a shudder down the tendril of magic back into his body. A static cage of electric energy slammed closed within Azrielle's skin, like a fortress of lightning.

His grip instantly whitened around the buckling reports in his hands, and Ondolemar's magic reeled back into him with such force that his eyes widened in shock. She had felt like a raging electrical storm, yet for a split second within the static cage of her roiling elemental magic; he had felt something so unknown, terrible, and ancient - slumbering. He recovered himself quickly with a deep breath and looked away. Never in all his years, had he felt such alien power. Her inherent magic was strong, but also just a curtain fluttering in the turbulence of that ancient power beneath. It was the briefest of seconds, but he could not mistake what he had just experienced.

Of one thing he was certain - there was much, much more to this beautiful, mysterious woman than anyone could see. She had not even twitched at his intrusion. She answered each of the Jarl's questions with unfaltering clarity and politeness during their intense exchange. Ondolemar felt his chest tighten with surprising respect for her. She looked to be about his own age, too. So young and yet so skilled? Another glance in her direction had Ondolemar wondering even more about where she had come from, and how she had come to this level of mastery over her magic. 

He could not help but watch her fully now, standing so quietly and simply before them - no sign of the terrible power hidden so well within her feminine form. Could she have a teacher? She must be from a high-born family, surely? He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about her. This unfamiliar desire took hold of him so suddenly that he didn’t hear the remainder of the conversation.

"My thanks, Jarl Igmund. It will be a privilege to be of help to the people of Markarth. You can find me at the Silverblood Inn for the duration of my stay. I bid you good day."

Azrielle offered another gracious bow, then turned to leave. Without another look, she left the throne room; a leather satchel slung across her back. Her belt was adorned with various little pouches, no doubt for ink, paper, scrolls and other research items. Ondolemar felt her presence leave the space, and he shifted uncomfortably. He felt strange somehow, melancholy. As though a small part of who he was as a boy had returned to him. Like a long-dry riverbed welcomed the returning rain. He had long since given in to his father’s demands of him as an only son; yet he felt a tug of emotion as his former self - a dreamer - smiled crookedly up at him from a dusty corner of his memory.

He swallowed audibly and turned on a heel to walk briskly to the exit, feeling disconcerted.

"Captain!" The Jarl called sharply behind him.

He stopped in his tracks, sighed, and turned with a practiced, tolerant tilt of his head. He didn't bother to respond verbally. He didn't trust his voice.

"Keep an eye on her." He completed gruffly, looking ruffled.

Ondolemar simply dipped his head and left the hall. His two guards flanked him and accompanied him to his quarters within the Stone Keep.

"Wait outside." He said sharply, and they took up position on either side of the doorway with a quick salute.

He shut the door behind him and lent against the cool Dwemer metal. He wasn't usually that curt with his guards. Braeth and Raelyn had been with him since he had been posted in Markarth, and they had grown close over the years. However, he felt shaken and they had known to give him space without question. He was grateful, but he didn't know how much to reveal to them at this point.

He went over to the table and poured himself some spiced wine, hoping to calm himself. Was Azrielle a threat here? She seemed more than capable magically, and she had taken on a small band of Forsworn on her own. He sipped the wine in contemplation, remembering her golden eyes gauging him in an instant. How could this stranger have such an effect on him? He took a seat at the stone table and took out his quill. He would just have to watch her closely for now.

Ondolemar wrote Azrielle's name on a new piece of parchment, along with a description of her, the date she had arrived in the City, where she had come from, and his thoughts thus far. He could see her face clearly in his mind, and knew she would remain there for some time yet.

"Braeth." He called out. The female guard stepped into the room quietly.

"Captain." She stood at attention at the end of the table. There were questions swimming in her eyes, but she remained silent.

"The Altmer woman who arrived earlier – keep an eye on her while she’s here. Let me know if you witness anything suspicious.”

She looked as though she wanted to ask more, but rather answered with a simple nod,

“Will do.” and let herself out.

Ondolemar massaged his brow with a sigh, seeing flickers of his young past behind his eyelids. He took another sip of wine and glanced over at the pile of reports awaiting his responses. It was still only late morning. The world continued without fail around him, despite whatever extraordinary experiences happened – not that there were many of those. With one last image of Azrielle's knowing look burning into his memory, the Captain reached for the first report. The only sound in the room for the next few hours was a quill scratching into dry parchment.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ondolemar decides to confront Azrielle for some real answers, but it won't be as easy as he believes.

Ondolemar slept fitfully that night. It had taken hours to fall asleep after reliving his encounter with Azrielle and asking too many questions he did not know the answers to. He couldn't get her out of his head! He had become so saturated with unknowing, that his annoyance grew and grated against his pride with every dead end. Just before he had finally fallen asleep, he’d decided that he would not be played the fool, he would not be taken by surprise again, and he would certainly not allow this woman to intimidate him. For all he knew, she could be a spy for the Stormcloaks - come to probe Markarth for weaknesses? He had to be sure.

Therefore, he endeavored to confront her the very next day and get to the bottom of it. His trained mindset would not allow him to be manipulated in this manner. He had come too far to fall now, and he would take control of the situation. While his inner voice of command ranted however, a small, silent part of him refused to go unnoticed anymore. It remained there with a small voice of its own, whispering amongst the noise that he was being an arrogant fool. A feeling he hadn’t had in a long, long while. He shoved it to the back of his mind. Pride demanded action.

The next morning as he readied himself, Ondolemar mentally practiced his speech; gathering his resolve to approach this stranger Azrielle. During this process however, he felt a fluttering in his belly which would not desist. He didn’t appreciate this unfamiliar sensation and felt barely in control of himself. It unnerved him. He was eager to get it over with. With one last tug on his immaculate, stiff collar, he swung open his chamber doors and motioned for his guards to follow. They did so after a quick glance at each other.

He would most likely encounter Azrielle on her way up to see Calcelmo this morning. He fixed a tolerable expression upon his face and strode briskly along the stone hallways, until they arrived at the junction which would take them to Calcelmo's workspace. As the oldest Altmer in the city, Ondolemar found the elderly scholar an agreeable sort. Though the younger nephew Aicantar was somewhat too eager for his liking.

Right on schedule, the unmistakable figure of Azrielle entered the stone keep and started up the steps toward where Ondolemar stood. He abruptly paused. Though she was dressed plainly in scholar's robes, he could not ignore the determined set of her shoulders and bright anticipation on her face. It faltered slightly when she spotted him, and he foolishly felt a twinge of disappointment. He didn’t blame her though, everyone reacted the same way. Yet she did not slow her pace and offered a polite smile before pausing to greet him.

"Good day Captain - brother, sister." Azrielle nodded to each of them in turn.

Braeth and Raelyn offered surprised nods in return, exchanging a quick glance between them.

They responded with a tentative nod, quickly looking away. 

Ondolemar was sure then that she must be high-born. He had not heard the native greeting in so long. Among the Altmer people, it was considered proper to greet each other as brother or sister, as they were all one. They learned, lived, and thrived together as one people. Well, that was the way it was meant to be. The world had grown into a much colder, unforgiving place - turning peoples against one another for some form of selfish gain.

Ignoring that acknowledgement, Ondolemar hardened his resolve to be the captain he was and responded without inflection,

"Good day. I don't believe we've properly met. I am Ondolemar, captain of the Thalmor Justiciars. It is my responsibility to oversee the removal of Talos worship in Skyrim. Therefore, I assume you understand that any participation in such matters is considered a crime. Being a newcomer to Markarth, I thought it best to stress this regulation to you in person." He concluded coldly.

He suddenly became aware of how awful he sounded even to his own ears; but he had to take control of this unraveling feeling within him, and this was the only way he knew how. Azrielle said nothing for a moment, only the quick flash of amusement in her eyes betrayed any emotion at all. She simply nodded pleasantly and replied;

"Of course Captain, I completely understand your position. You may rest assured that I am here strictly in the name of historical education. I am no Talos-worshipping rebel or Stormcloak infiltrator, I give you my word. Should you require any validation of these statements, please feel free to send word to the holds, throughout which I am known. The Jarls of Winterhold, Falkreath, Morthal, Whiterun and Riften have all been kind enough to host me for the duration of my educational enquiries with them in these past months."

She briefly smiled at his guards before adding,

"I must thank you captain Ondolemar, for your stopping by this morning to meet me. Is there anything else I can assist you with?" She asked with another smile, hands clasped neatly behind her.

It took a moment for him to gather his answer. He hadn't expected such a response. Usually people just lowered their eyes, apologized and quickly retreated. Azrielle hadn't so much as flinched. Even now, she held his gaze with such unwavering focus that he shifted from one foot to the other in unfamiliar discomfort. 

"No. Just stay out of trouble, scholar." He replied flatly.

The corner of her mouth lifted quickly, before she politely dipped her head to him.

"Of course, captain. Good day, um -?" She raised her brows pleasantly at his guards in expectation.

Ondolemar turned to them blankly, and after a quick glance at him they stated their names. She met their eyes and nodded, no doubt memorizing every detail.

"Braeth, Raelyn; have a good day." She smiled once more and departed, clearing the steps with a graceful, confident stride.

The trio watched her go in dumb silence. Ondolemar then realized that he had achieved nothing at all, except to hear that she had no intention to cause trouble. His face heated with both anger and shame. He had just stood there like a fool! A sneer broke out upon his face and he spun on his guards,

"Find out who she is, NOW." He snapped; and stormed off toward his study; scattering the kitchen staff as they prepared to serve the Jarl’s breakfast.

Braeth and Raelyn gawked at each other in shock. Never had they seen such an outburst from their captain before. He had always been perfectly collected and three steps ahead of everyone and everything in Markarth. Their eyes widened, but so too did their slow grins.

"Did you see that?" Braeth asked, with a gloved hand hiding her white teeth. "He was completely flummoxed!" She stifled a snort.

Raelyn struggled to conceal his own grin as he nodded in agreement. After another moment of barely contained laughter, they found themselves watching the spot where Azrielle had disappeared around the corner. They’d been with Ondolemar for years here and didn't take his anger to heart. Indeed, he was sharp as a blade and strict as a whip; yet in the privacy of their chambers, Ondolemar was a comrade to them. He had just been caught completely off guard by this strange, striking woman who seemed to be on his own level – perhaps higher.

"There's something strange about her, Braeth. I think the captain can feel it too." Raelyn said quietly after a moment. Braeth nodded silently beside him.

"Oh yes. For one, she shows no fear of him at all. Her character is undoubtedly confident. There's something else though..." She trailed off with a shake of the head.

"I had better go and make a few inquiries. I'll report back in a while." She said, adjusting her Elven sword at her hip. Raelyn nodded again,

"Yes, I couldn't tell you where to begin. She seems highborn, but from what house...?" he shrugged. 

"I'll keep a watch on her and try to figure out her intentions. Best keep out of the captain's way today. I doubt he would find our amusement at the situation pleasing. But I will never forget the way he looked at her. I daresay our captain experienced something akin to admiration, today."

He raised his brows at Braeth, and she smiled knowingly before taking her leave. Raelyn then turned and followed Azrielle to master Calcelmo's study. He paused just at the corner to watch the woman as she spoke with the older mer and introduced herself to Aicantar - Calcelmo's nephew and assistant. The younger male's face had brightened, and he was grinning as he spoke with her. Both males were Altmer, and seemed highly pleased to meet another of their own. Despite the High Elves' pride and stiff exterior; they all felt an undeniable satisfaction when meeting another of their own.

Raelyn smirked and crossed his arms as he leaned against the stone wall, observing. After ten minutes he knew that in a few weeks, this Azrielle would no doubt have all Markarth in the palm of her hand - including his own captain. He smiled quietly to himself.

Ondolemar had been alone his whole life; affection and companionship being denied him in Thalmor training. Indeed, that sort of interaction was forbidden to those entering the Embassy. The leaders enforced utter loyalty to the Dominion by cutting off their people from anything which could distract or influence them from their cause. Though they all three had come from the Embassy, being stationed in isolated Markarth had worn down their razor-sharp Thalmor edge. 

They rarely had need to meet with any of the other leaders; having only to deal with the messengers bringing in reports and orders. Their interaction with old Calcelmo and his nephew had also smoothed their harshness. The pair of males were determined to be independent from the Dominion, and chose instead to remain out of scrutiny whilst pursuing their interests. 

The three agents had quickly come to enjoy their earthy honesty and easy talk of their discoveries. They often all shared dinner together in the evenings, preferring each other’s company to that of the Nords - who spoke mostly of glory and war. Raelyn watched Azrielle as she easily won over the old elf, who soon had her enraptured in tales of his Dwemer discoveries, face bright with passionate interest as she studied Calcelmo's drawings and Dwemer contraptions.

He huffed in amusement. Usually the old stubborn elf would have venomously chased away any who attempted to share in his studies...yet there he was - divulging all his secrets to this strange, charming woman before him. And Aicantar - the lad was positively beaming from within his hood whenever he turned away to hide it. Well, finally something interesting was happening in Markarth.


	4. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paths begin to intertwine, as Azrielle and Ondolemar enter a tentative friendship.

Azrielle breathed in the fresh Reach air, taking in the sounds of the city waking up. It felt good to be away from the College for a while. Though she did love her studies and teaching the younger students when she had the time. Gratitude filled her as she thought of how far she’d come, alone. So much had happened since she’d left the Summerset Isles - left all she’d ever known in search of an ancient calling which had drawn her to this cold and unforgiving land. Azrielle was not the same young woman from the Isles. She’d been in Skyrim for five years now, and was completely transformed. Instead of the quietly stubborn daughter of a wealthy, influential family and almost married off to some eel of a Thalmor diplomat; Azrielle was now a force of nature. Completely independent, proud, adventurous and dangerous.

Her journey had taken her to many cities and guilds. She was trained in combat by the famed Companions of Whiterun; learned how to move unseen by the Thieves Guild of Riften; hardened in the deadly shadows of the Dark Brotherhood, and magically honed in the College of Winterhold. And above all that, Azrielle had won the hearts of multiple holds, earning the title of Thane in Whiterun, Riften and Falkreath. She had done all of it in preparation for her ultimate calling, however. The weight of it settled into her for a moment, the ever-familiar sense of impending doom mingling with freedom and achievement. Azrielle had achieved all this not out of pure whim, but survival. She had to prepare for what her destiny had in store for her. She had to be ready. The Greybeards had warned her. 

Before the weight became too overwhelming, she lifted her face to the warming sun and took a deep breath. One day at a time, Azrielle. She leveled her shoulders, and continued on her way up to the keep for her usual breakfast with Calcelmo and Aicantar.  
Rather than being a journey of danger and the unknown this time, her visit to Markarth was purely educational. There was much to learn from the Dwemer, and she wanted to present her findings to the Archmage in a bid to include it in their studies.  
Calcelmo knew all there was to know about those ancient people, and had generously agreed to share some of his work with her if she helped with the research. Her stomach fluttered as she anticipated another possible breakthrough at the excavation site. This would be the perfect evidence to validate her argument about Dwemer magic being another possible branch of the arcane, which had been lost when the ancient race had disappeared. She hungered to find how just how they had done it, and where they had gone. 

Azrielle had a passion for learning, and discovery. When she could spare the time, she loved to comb the landscape for old Nordic ruins and forgotten magic. The more she could learn, the better prepared she could be. She often brought along Marcurio – a mage for hire in Riften. After cracking through that sarcastic, pompous act he used to wear, they’d become fast friends during her stay in the misty city. They’d often adventure together and share news via mage-letter. That reminded her, it was time to catch up again soon. She would write him a letter this evening and plan another trip into the wilderness. Azrielle was eager to discover more Dragon Walls and ancient words of power. That is, if her studies allowed. There was so much to do, yet so little time.  
With another deep breath, Azrielle reached the top of the stairs to the Stone Keep. She nodded to the guards, but they just glared in return. Beside the Silverbloods and the guards, the people seemed to enjoy her presence here. It had been a fortnight since her arrival. The first week had been awkward, but that was simply because she was an outsider - a suspicious outsider who wanted to help everyone.

She had fast realized that the guards were corrupt, and somehow in the pocket of the Silverbloods, but she steered clear. She wasn’t here to turn the city upside-down or draw unneeded attention. She’d firmly promised Tolfdir that, when her elderly mentor at the College had discouraged her visit. No, she was here for educational purposes only. Nothing more.

A tall, hooded figure suddenly appeared in front of her and Azrielle mentally prepared herself. Captain Ondolemar stood stoically before her, his usual stony expression perfectly matching his equally stony surroundings. He gazed down at her silently, his leaf-green eyes flicking to either side before settling on hers again. Azrielle breathed in calmly, and finally spoke up;

“Captain, you’re up early today.” She smiled politely.

Those eyes unnerved her. So did the rest of his sharp, clear face. All of him, honestly. She wouldn’t allow herself to admit that it wasn’t in an entirely unpleasant way, either.

He was captain of the Thalmor Justiciars – the very head of the ambition to rid the people of Skyrim of their ancestral faith. It made her stomach roil. She recalled the exchange they’d had the first time she’d seen him in the Jarl’s throne room. He’d definitely been the one to send out the magic probe. However, she also recalled the immense satisfaction she experienced at his look of shock at her magical response. It probably hadn’t been the best idea to reveal so much of her power. It had only drawn his attention, and the last thing Azrielle wanted was a Thalmor agent looking into her background. He probably already was. Yet there was something about Ondolemar that intrigued her. Her observation training in the Dark Brotherhood revealed people’s true natures, to study her marks deeply before striking. The captain did not seem to possess the usual cold indifference of the Thalmor. He tried to, but she saw through it. 

Their encounters were far from pleasant, but he made her curious, and that was dangerous. Then there was the other problem. He was strikingly handsome. More than once, she had caught herself casting prolonged glances at the captain from afar, and had to scold herself profusely afterward. That was not allowed. The fact that he was a Thalmor captain should have immediately steered her far, far away from him, yet it hadn’t quite.

“Indeed, there is much to do. I...trust your research is progressing well?” He asked her stiffly, though she did enjoy the sound of his voice. Focus, Azrielle.

“It goes very well, thank you captain.” She responded, adjusting her notebooks in her arms.

“I believe we’re on the brink of another discovery – regarding the kinetic magic used in the mechanical Dwemer arachnid construct.” She added, meeting his gaze.

A rare flicker of interest lit his eyes, and he asked haltingly, “Is that so?”

Azrielle sought to end the conversation before she got too curious about that little spark she’d seen. 

“I’d be happy to share my thoughts on the findings, should you like a report. Well, I’d best get to work then, I’m sure you know how master Calcelmo can get…” she trailed off, taking a step away.

His eyes remained on her face. Azrielle gave a quick nod, and turned to leave. She wondered if he also shared an interest in ancient discoveries. Would a Thalmor agent have the capacity to show interest in anything beside his own power?

“I would.” He suddenly announced from behind her. Azrielle paused in surprise after three steps, turning back to him. 

“Hm?” 

Uncertainty crossed his hooded face, as he quickly added;

“I’d like to hear a report – about your findings.” He finished roughly, gesturing with a hand.

Azrielle mentally kicked herself. Why had she even suggested that? But her inevitable curiosity also twitched at the change in his demeanor. She inwardly warred with herself as she searched for the most appropriate response.

“You are too polite, captain; I’m sure you have a very busy schedule. If you can find the time…” She finished lamely. Internally, she groaned at her own foolishness.

With a quick nod of her head, Azrielle all but fled to Calcelmo’s study in horror at what she had just said. The captain was left staring after her wordlessly, a strange expression upon his face. The rest of the day passed in fits of self-controlled focus and self-loathing in equal measure. She dreaded what she had just allowed. She was a noble blooded fugitive with a doomed destiny, and he was a Thalmor captain who seemed just as curious as herself. Gods help her.

Thanking her lucky stars, a few weeks went by with no word from the captain. They had exchanged only polite greetings whenever required. She had used all the skills she possessed to avoid bumping into him for longer than a moment. She rose even earlier than usual every morning to use the dark, foggy dawn to conceal her movements through the city. She never lingered in any spot too long; buying food and carrying out research tasks with lethal efficiency during the day – if only to keep her moving and looking incredibly busy.

Azrielle turned a corner of a back street, shuffling papers in her shoulder bag, when a quiet male voice suddenly murmured,

“You know, you’re really good at this.”

She whirled, unsheathing a dagger from her robes and summoning her lighting in the other palm. She nimbly twisted around the stranger, wielding the dagger to his throat. She held her writhing electricity very, very close to his right temple. All of three seconds had passed. The stranger’s body went rigid with fear, and he suddenly hissed; 

“Azrielle! Its me! Raelyn!”

She paused, her deadly focus delaying his release for a moment longer. Then she silently eased her hold on the guard and sheathed her weapons – both steel and magical. Raelyn stumbled away, turning to face her. He didn’t hide his shock and as he beheld her. After a moment, she realized she still wore the deathly calm expression on her face and schooled it into sheepishness.

“Raelyn! You can’t sneak up on people like that! Are you mad?” She whispered loudly at him.

The guard’s expression didn’t change. He watched her carefully, glancing around before finally answering.

“I uh, I apologize. I was doing my rounds, and knew you’d come this way.” He still seemed wary of her, and she grimaced guiltily.

“Rae, I’m really sorry…you just surprised me. Instinct kicked in, you know?” She smiled sheepishly again, trying to make him relax.

How could she be caught so off guard like that? This could ruin everything. He’d be too suspicious of her now…

“No you’re right; I was foolish to surprise you like that. I saw you were a little distracted.” He admitted ruefully, gesturing to her leather bag stuffed with research notes and books.

“You’re surprisingly scary, Azrielle. I’m impressed.” He said, winking.

Thank the gods. Azrielle laughed a little nervously herself. This is why she liked the Thalmor guard. As soon as she’d begun doing work for Calcelmo, she’d never failed to notice that he tailed her from a distance – on orders from Ondolemar, she had no doubt. However, they had soon nurtured an easy friendship after she’d struck up a conversation with him one day.

“A lady has to protect herself, you know.” Azrielle winked back. “Um, let’s keep this hidden talent between us please? It won’t work if I don’t have the element of surprise.” She asked, quirking an eyebrow at him as they fell into step beside each other.

Raelyn glanced at her sideways, weighing his response. But he grinned at her a moment later and nodded,

“You have my word, my lady.” He sketched a quick, mocking bow. Azrielle slapped his shoulder playfully. He chuckled, but threw her another look.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re avoiding the captain? Or is that a secret as well?” he asked, looking forward again.

Azrielle stiffened. He missed nothing. She took a moment to think about her answer. How much could she trust him? After he gave her another glance, she decided to mix some truth in to her answer.

“Well I–“

“–He’s overly intimidating, isn’t he?” Raelyn smiled knowingly at her as they came to a stop before the stairs up to the stone keep.

Azrielle exhaled with relief as he provided an answer for her. She offered a skew smile at him, rolling her eyes a little. He chuckled again, shaking his head.

“I knew it. Don’t worry; we all think that really. It’s his job, I guess.” There was a vague sadness in his eyes as he said that though. Azrielle tucked that little tidbit of information away as she asked tentatively,

“Are you and Braeth close to the captain?”

He nodded. “We’ve been with him since he was dispatched to Markarth. Its been about eight years now.” 

Azrielle nodded slowly. So they knew Ondolemar well. That was all it took for Raelyn to begin filling her in on their history. Over the next few days, she found the guard quietly waiting for her around the corner every dawn. She secretly came to enjoy the company, and he seemed to enjoy the conversation too. But Azrielle knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid Ondolemar for much longer. His sharp face crossed her mind, along with a small tug in her chest. So she decided it was time to cease the hiding, and maintain a normal behaviour. It would be much less suspicious, after all. That was the only reason.

The day finally arrived. Captain Ondolemar was waiting for her at the top of the stone stairs, looking uncharacteristically…nervous? His gloved hands were clasped tightly behind his back, and he paced across the landing. Azrielle’s brows rose in surprise, and she caught Raelyn’s eye as he stood guard by the nearest doorway. He was smiling slightly, his eyes twinkling. This couldn’t be good.

Azrielle reached the top of the stairs, and Ondolemar paused his pacing to intercept her. As his peridot gaze settled on her, she immediately felt her skin tighten, as it usually did whenever he looked at her like that. His pupils narrowed on her so sharply, like he was attempting to catalogue every inch of her. And his scent enveloped her again – pine needles and honey. She swallowed. She’d been trying so damn hard to stay away. 

She quickly put on the politest smile she had; ready to prepare a swift exit when he suddenly said,

“I understand I’ve made you…uncomfortable.”

Azrielle paused, surprised. He audibly exhaled and continued,

“My position requires me to be well informed about those in this city, and –“

A stifled throat-clearing sounded in the background. Ondolemar’s mouth tightened.

“I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable, Azrielle.” He tried again, adding her name slowly on the end. 

She wouldn’t admit how lovely her name sounded when he said it. She blinked at him, then realized she hadn’t answered yet and all three of them were watching her intently. She quickly smiled and responded,

“Oh, not at all Captain. I believe my own behaviour has given the wrong impression; though I thank you for your concern. My work has kept me very busy lately and I admit I have been somewhat unsociable. Please excuse my rudeness.”

She smiled up at him; a warm feeling arose in her chest as his face opened up at her response. They watched each other like that for a moment, and then he seemed to remember himself. The familiar neutral expression returned. She tore her eyes away quickly. Then Raelyn caught her eye again, and she could have sworn he winked. Bastard.

Ondolemar shifted uncomfortably, then surprised her yet again.

“I believe it would benefit us both of we…began again.” Azrielle blinked at him.

He took another breath and continued, “I would truly be interested to hear about your work with Calcelmo. The old mer barely has time for me, and I haven’t been able to get him to crack like you have.” He finished awkwardly.

Azrielle could only stare at him as he again clasped his hands behind his back, looking intensely out of place in his own body. When he met her eyes again, that openness flashing for a second, Azrielle couldn’t help herself. She laughed. His green eyes widened in surprise, and he stood still. She wasn’t sure why, she just never expected to see him like this. It was…delightful. He was genuinely interested in her work? So that’s why Rae was grinning like an idiot back there. He knew the whole time, didn’t he? She reigned in her mirth, and finally offered him her first real smile. She’d have to find a way to thank the guard later. Although she knew she would never really be able to tell any of them the whole truth about her, this little offer of trust lifted some of the weight from her shoulders. Ondolemar was watching her closely, quietly. His intense gaze took her in like never before, and his face was unguarded for once. She felt her cheeks heat a little, and quickly shifted her focus.

“It wasn’t that easy, I admit. He is an impenetrable vault. I’m still working hard to get in his good books.” She said wryly, unable to forget the way he’d stared at her mouth while she smiled.

“Perhaps you could share your methods of persuasion with me, then.” He responded; his eyes flicking to hers.

Raelyn cleared his throat again in the background, and Ondolemar threw him an annoyed glance.

“Would you care to join me at dinner this evening in the keep? I’d very much like to hear about the Dwemer arachnid you mentioned.” He asked, shifting his weight again.

Azrielle hesitated. As nice as it was to witness a new side to Ondolemar, this was something else. She couldn’t continue to evade the Thalmor captain without appearing truly suspicious, prompting him to investigate her in earnest. So she quickly decided to allow this. She would keep it strictly professional. 

“It would be a privilege, captain.” She answered.

The fleeting look of pleasure that passed over Ondolemar’s handsome face instantly made her regret the decision.


	5. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months have passed in Markarth, and Ondolemar makes a discovery that will change him for good!  
> A shorter chapter, I know...I wanted to focus on how Ondolemar was feeling for a change!

Ondolemar tugged on his stiff Thalmor robes for what felt like the hundredth time, and huffed in annoyance as he glanced at his mirror. There stood the Thalmor Captain; cold and aloof; ruthless and superior. He could barely stand the sight of himself lately. He turned away from his reflection in disgust, casting his dark hood onto the nearest surface. He lowered himself heavily onto a stone bench, and ran a hand over his face. His sudden dark mood was due to the correspondence he’d received from his father a few hours ago. There was nothing loving written there, not even a hint as to how his mother was or a query about his health. No, just pushing his continued duty and loyalty to the Thalmor. Proving himself worthy and all that.

What had happened over the last few months to cause such a mental and emotional change in him? The answer came quickly; Azrielle. Her name rang through his mind like a clear bell, her golden gaze unflinching within his memory. He had grown weary of attempting to shut her out, especially when every sense drew him ever toward her. She stood out so completely from her surroundings, even though he noticed how hard she tried not to. It was as though she strove to change the world, while remaining anonymous. Impossible.

His chest warmed as he thought of her. Over the last months, they had somehow turned her reports into a weekly event after the first one had gone so well. At the end of each week, they would meet for the evening meal in the Stone Keep and share updates and discoveries. How he had begun to ask for her opinion on local politics and methods of government, he had no idea. But he had come to find immense pleasure in her charismatic, intelligent company, and found himself lowering his defenses further and further in her presence. The realization caused more than a little anxiety, mixed with a strange sense of liberation and excitement. Something within him was loosening like a knot coming undone and he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it, but he wasn’t stopping it either. However, Azrielle maintained her distance just enough so that there was always an arm’s length between them. It was both a relief and a painful annoyance. 

He was dangerously close to taking an inappropriate step closer, though. He could barely contain his impulse to reach out and touch her. Whenever they were together, he helplessly watched her lips as she spoke, or the way she idly tucked a stray lock of jet black hair behind a delicately arched ear, or offered a rare, full smile. He was entranced, and that was bad. He’d even caught himself in the same blind spot in a hallway, watching her as she carried books and notes up to Calcelmo’s study every so often. He sighed heavily again. He was supposed to be leaving to meet her for dinner right now, but his Thalmor clothing felt unnaturally tight and uncomfortable on him. He was well aware of her opinion about the Thalmor and their methods. He wanted her to see him differently; not as a Thalmor captain but – but what? Could there ever be anything more? There was a polite yet steady knock on his door just as he pulled on his hood with a yank. 

“Captain? Its about time to leave—“

Ondolemar yanked open the door with a little too much force, and cleared his throat as Raelyn gave him a look.

“Alright?” his trusted guard asked.

“…I don’t know.” He answered simply.

There was no use trying to hide it from his companion. Raelyn saw too much for his own good – to the point of unashamed nosiness. Indeed, the guard offered a small nod in acknowledgement. Of course he could see what was happening, Raelyn knew Ondolemar too well to ignore the change in him. 

“Ondolemar.” 

He glanced over at Raelyn reluctantly.

“What holds you here?” his friend asked quietly, earnestly. 

That was a dangerous question, one that drew up too many doubts and only more questions. He felt that unraveling sensation within him again, and clenched his gloved fists. Raelyn noticed, and quickly added,

“I don’t mean to pry. I just – there is a chance here. For…more. That is all I will say about it.” Then he turned and descended the stone steps into the main hall.

Ondolemar let out yet another breath. All this heavy breathing was making him light headed. He didn’t know what to do, in all honesty. For the first time in his long life, he felt unsteady and unsure of himself. And this striking, intriguing, magnetic woman was at the heart of it. His stomach fluttered as it always did, and he finally made his way to the main hall to meet her. Azrielle came into full view as he turned the corner, staring right at him from the stairs as though she’d been waiting for him to appear at that very spot. Something tingled down his spine. She caught herself though, and her expression returned to that guarded politeness. There was no mistaking the energy between them, he knew that much. Yet, just as something held him back from reaching out, something kept her from doing the same. He also knew with certainty that pushing this thing between them would only have the opposite effect he wanted. So, he unclenched his fists and offered a polite smile of his own instead.

“Azrielle. Good evening.” He greeted her, allowing warmth into his words.

She smiled back at him, equally warm, “Ondolemar.”

The way she said his name made him feel good. He gestured to the dinner table set against one of the ancient stone walls, laden with the evening meal. Azrielle nodded and took a seat, glancing around the room for their usual companions. Sighting Raelyn and Braeth at the back of the room, she asked,

“Are we dining alone this evening?”

The candlelight set her eyes to a molten hue, and Ondolemar swallowed tightly before forcing himself to glance at his guards questioningly. All he got in return was a swift salute before they quickly left the room. His stomach dropped. Usually, they all sat together. Sometimes, old Calcelmo joined them – along with Aicantar – to his irritation. The young mer was smitten with Azrielle, yet wasn’t completely unlikable. Tonight however, they were suspiciously alone. He ground his teeth. This was Raelyn’s doing, he was sure of it.

“It would seem so.” He responded flatly.

Azrielle’s mouth tightened as she avoided his eyes. She sat a little more stiffly, as though very suddenly aware of the situation they were in. To her credit, she recovered faster than he did and broke the silence with her latest news. He quietly exhaled in relief, and joined the conversation. After just a few minutes, they may as well have been the only two in Tamriel. They spoke of the week’s events, shared opinions on upcoming tasks, new discoveries, even shared a little gossip. Eventually, Ondolemar noticed that they had unconsciously shifted closer to each other at the table.

Azrielle had angled her body, facing him directly across the corner of the table, and she leaned forward on her forearms as she spoke. Suddenly, his thoughts went very quiet. She was so close that he could take in her scent – earthy, and was that lavender? He unconsciously leaned forward further and breathed her in deeply. Her scent enveloped him, and he closed his eyes to memorize it. Azrielle had fallen silent, holding totally still. He quickly realized what he had just done, and froze.

She let out a small breath, tickling his cheek and causing goosebumps to break out over his body. She turned her face toward him a little, lips almost touching as she too, inhaled. Her lips parted slightly, and it took everything he had not to meet that mouth with his own right then. She seemed to struggle with herself as well, as they sat frozen like that for a moment longer. Their eyes suddenly met in a long, intense gaze that radiated heat and set his core alight. He saw her fingers slowly rise to touch his face…

Then she was gone.

A small gust of cold air followed her as she stood in one smooth movement. Ondolemar abruptly sat upright, making to stand with her when she said quietly,

“It’s late. I should take my leave.” Then she took a step away.

Ondolemar rose and made to reach for her, but paused half way. His chest felt painfully tight, and his feet leaden.

“Azrielle, I’m –“

“–Thank you for dinner, Captain. Good night.” She interrupted, then swiftly strode away and descended the darkened stone steps to the lower exit. 

Ondolemar was left standing quietly in her wake, emotions warring within him. The hall felt suddenly and completely empty. Cold. What in oblivion had just happened? His jaw ached as he clenched his teeth in frustration. How could he be so utterly careless and brash? However, just as quickly as the anger had flared, it faded away and was replaced with something else. He turned to gaze once more at the exit where Azrielle had left, and realized that what he now felt was a blooming, undeniable hope. He was not wrong then. Azrielle felt the same way about him, but something was in the way.

He walked slowly back to his quarters, marveling at this new feeling within him despite his wildly inappropriate behavior. All his former doubts paled next to this feeling. Indeed, they didn’t seem to matter anymore. He needed to know, needed to be sure that he wasn’t going completely and utterly insane. Tomorrow, he would find her and apologize. Then, he would take as much time as was necessary to get through to her.

For, one thing had been made crystal clear this evening which he could no longer deny: he was in love with Azrielle.


	6. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrielle makes a sudden decision, in response to her confused emotions.

"Azrielle; must you leave so suddenly?" Raelyn asked, helping to strap the last of her things onto the saddle.

The leathery squeaks punctuated the silent dawn air of the Reach. He’d been sitting just outside Ondolemar’s door late last night when she’d quietly gone to leave the departure note, a strange mixture of surprise and worry warring on his face. He’d instantly shot to his feet as she made herself known, looking rather unsure of how to act. At her somber, guilty expression though, his face had fallen in earnest. He insisted on being here to see her off at dawn, but his usual cheerful mood was replaced with solemnity.

Her friend turned to her, a hand habitually resting on his Elven sword pommel. She paused after pulling her dark green cloak closer about her, and reluctantly met his eyes. She had a strong feeling that he already suspected what had happened last night, yet hadn’t bought it up yet. She was grateful, and the guilt that followed ate at her.

"I must leave." She said heavily, glancing up in the direction of the Stone Keep.  
"The College has finally insisted that I return; I’ve been away too long. Besides, I can feel myself growing simpler by the day." She added ruefully, though it didn’t reach her eyes. He threw her a doubtful look, but only nodded silently. Why he hadn’t asked about what happened, she didn’t know. Perhaps he felt it wasn’t his place.

Azrielle rested a hand on his shoulder and added, "I will be pestering you with letters I assure you. You will write me, yes?" She asked seriously. She would miss his easy company and healthy sense of humour.

Raelyn sighed, but nodded. “Yes, I will. But you will return, right?” he asked quietly.

Azrielle offered a grim smile in response, unable to disappoint him anymore. His eyes dimmed further at her lack of confirmation, but he put on a small smile for her.

"I would offer the blessings of the gods for your journey, but I think it's the bandits who may need it more, my lady." He said.

Azrielle smiled knowingly and mounted up in one easy movement. Chest growing painfully tight, she turned her horse's head toward the misty open road. She’d written notes for everyone that mattered, regarding her sudden departure. She could only hope that they somehow understood and forgave her. She swallowed with difficulty as a thick lump formed in her throat.

"Farewell, Raelyn. Take care of Ond—."

"Azrielle." A clear, commanding voice said loudly from behind her.

Her heart plummeted to the bottom of her ribcage. She reluctantly tugged on the reins, and turned to find Ondolemar swiftly descending the stone steps from the city gates. Surprise overtook anxiety for a moment as she noticed how disheveled he looked. His Thalmor robes looked a little crumpled around the edges and she felt undiluted, traitorous delight at the long strands of pure silver hair spilling free of his hood. Azrielle fought desperately to maintain a neutral expression, but she forged the vision into her memory. Her heart throbbed at the sight.

"Captain Ondolemar, I— wasn’t expecting you to be about this early.” She managed, unable to smile politely as she usually did. Gods, he made her ache.

He came to a halt next to Raelyn, who quietly offered a small nod to her, then turned and left without another word. Ondolemar stared at her in silence, not even acknowledging his guard. Azrielle swallowed hard, panic and adoration warring within her at the sight of him.

“The College requires my presence...they’re conducting another expedition into the ruins of Saarthal. I did leave notes for everyone. I apologize for the sudden –"

"—Yes, I was awake when it slid beneath my door." He said flatly, unmoving.

He looked tired, his face pale from lack of sleep. He stood an arm's length from her knee, holding very still. She suddenly realized that she was looking down on him for once, instead of him looming over her as he usually did. It sent a small tingle through her cold veins. Yet his eyes, when they finally met hers fully, were heavily guarded and unreadable. Over the few months she’d been in Markarth, they had developed a comfortable companionship. With Ondolemar, Azrielle had learnt to keep a few paces away - in every way. Only their eyes had ever betrayed their true feelings, every now and then. Until last night.

There were a few times when she’d been so tempted to just tell him everything - the whole truth. It happened whenever his eyes would briefly light up while she told one of her adventure stories, or catch him watching her while they took a walk to the river. Those were also the small glimpses into Ondolemar's youth, when he'd been a bright eyed youngster with dreams of exploration. She realized after what happened last night, just how much she had been slipping with him. The way his open, bright expression tugged at her heart; how she enjoyed their walks around Markarth; how much she wanted to make him smile; hear his opinion and how many times she caught herself watching him far too closely.

Late last night, she had decided to use the College’s recent request for her assistance with Saarthal, to leave Markarth. Azrielle gazed down at him now; his sharp face framed by silver hair that moved a little with the breeze. How could she involve him in her fate? Especially a fate which she had no idea she’d walk away from? And although she sensed he was different; he was still Thalmor – a Thalmor captain. She felt so foolish. The fewer people she got close to, the better. She knew this all along! Azrielle bit back the stinging that began in her eyes and fiddled with her reins.

“Please.” He uttered softly. “Please tell me I have not caused this.”

By the nine, was that her heart rending in two? His arms hung loose at his sides, though he stood stiffly and his face was hard. He spoke each word slowly and steadily, in controlled anger. Azrielle fought to keep her expression light as she shook her head.

"No one is to blame but myself, Captain. I have lingered too long. I have gained so much from Markarth and I’m ever grateful for the valued company I had while here. But I must leave today; it is time. Thank you, for everything. Please take care of yourself."

Azrielle meant every word, but she needed to leave before doing something she’d regret further. So she nodded to him with a wan smile, and turned her mount's head for the road with a small kick.

"Azrielle." She felt a firm hand take hold of her ankle and had to pull on her reins a little too hard. Her mount threw his head up in protest.

She glanced down at his strong hand on her boot, then met his sharp green gaze - now filled with fire. She couldn't hear her heart beating. She couldn’t breathe. He saw right through her, didn’t he? He spoke quietly, but held her pained eyes with a new strength she’d never seen before.

"I will accept your response, for now. Just…be careful. Please." His grip tightened as he spoke, and warmth shot up her calf in response.

Before Azrielle could stop herself, she instinctively reached out and let a few strands of Ondolemar’s silver hair slide through her fingers like liquid. The tips of her fingers slid lightly across his cheek with the movement.

"I always am." She replied gently, and his hand slid from her boot to fall limply at his side.

Azrielle spurred her mount forward, and didn’t look back as she cantered down to the road and out of sight; leaving Ondolemar staring after her in silence. She pushed her mount as far as he would go until finally collapsing into her hastily erected tent that night. The whole way there, she swallowed the frustrated tears which threatened to overwhelm her.

Ondolemar had been unable to move as he watched Azrielle disappear from his sight. He was sure he stood like that for far too long, because the rising sun had eventually hit his face and he flinched back to life to shield his eyes. He took a deep breath and turned back toward the stone keep. The ancient city had always seemed cold and uninviting to him before, yet now it felt like a crushing prison. Something within him withered then, and it was at that moment that Ondolemar truly despised his circumstance. 

Of course Azrielle had left because of him. By oblivion, she’d practically fled to escape! He knew it wasn’t because of how she felt. No, it was his position that had pushed her away further. There was definitely more going on than Azrielle let on. She’d always been strictly careful of what she said in his presence, tactfully avoiding talk about her past or personal endeavors besides College work. He’d never been able to find much information about her, despite his efforts. She was a mystery.

As he slowly made his way back up the stars into the city, he realized that Azrielle had been doing this a long time. Hiding herself. Not being the center of attention. She had begun to relax with him, as he had with her over the last months. Something had started to burn between them, he was sure of it; and that’s what had caused her to retreat. Not because she didn’t want to be with him, but because of what she was keeping well hidden from everyone. What secret could be so threatening that she wouldn’t allow herself to get close to anyone? Was she completely alone because of it? His chest felt like lead, and he clenched his fists painfully hard.

Gods, what now? What should he do? She’d left without a backward glance, but that gesture…he recalled the lightness of her touch on his cheek as she’d reached for his hair, and his skin tightened. That touch. He’d always imagined how it would feel, and now he’d had a few seconds of it and it was driving him crazy. Ondolemar stopped dead in his tracks and glanced down at himself. Crumpled robes, loose hair and he’d forgotten his belt. He hastily righted himself, shooting looks around him for any witnesses. Breathing slightly unevenly, he cursed under his breath and walked briskly back to his chambers to properly clean up. He knew that he was quickly coming undone, and that these stone walls were suddenly and undeniably suffocating him.

Braeth and Raelyn were standing quietly to either side of his chamber doorway. They said nothing as he swept inside without a word, firmly closing the door behind him. Ondolemar felt light headed for a few minutes as he fully realized what his life was, who he was and who his family wanted him to be. He realized that he hated it all with more passion than he’d previously thought possible. He was sure he almost felt ready to throw a few essentials into a bag and follow Azrielle’s lead right then. The crazy idea took root in his mind the longer he thought about it, but he couldn’t just disappear. The embassy would be notified straight away when their monthly report didn’t arrive.

He would have to find a way, somehow, to vanish without a trace. He thought of his two loyal guards and friends; what would Braeth and Raelyn do? Abandon their posts and follow him? No, it was too dangerous for them. He’d have to act completely alone to keep them safe. They couldn’t know anything. Ondolemar paused his pacing. That’s what Azrielle was doing. Keeping everyone at arm’s length, not telling them the whole truth, remaining distant in every way so that no one else could get involved. This only made him want to know her more. He wouldn’t give up, then. Until there was a way, he’d hold onto Azrielle in whatever way he could. All he knew was that Azrielle made him feel alive. Alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and he wasn’t about to forget it.

For now though, he’d carry on. He’d keep up appearances, do his duty and quietly pull something together to get him out of this monotonous hole that he hadn’t fully realized before. Feeling somewhat calmer now that he had a new goal to focus on, he called his companions in and asked for their daily reports. After exchanging worried glances with one another, they sat and reported on the day’s events. Ondolemar silently thanked them for their consideration, as always. He struggled to take in their words, as his heart felt more and more distant from his body – as though it followed Azrielle further and further away from where he was.


	7. Burdens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrielle has an emotional moment, and feels the heavy burden of her responsibilities threaten to overwhelm her. She makes a decision to stay in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m switching to first-person writing mode from now on, because I find it easier to write this way! Sorry about that, I hope you don’t mind. I'll be sure to let you know in the Notes from whose perspective I'm writing. It just feels more personal this way, lol :)

Candle light flickered sullenly over my desk as I wrote, and my neck ached from the stiff position I'd adopted for the last three hours. I sighed tiredly. It was an honor to be named Thane of a city, but the responsibilities were beginning to take their toll. It meant a dedicated few hours every day for official responses and requests, or sending orders for how to handle city affairs. However, I could now efficiently help maintain a city by letter alone; though I knew eventually I would need some help. Gods, I might have to give up the position entirely. But not yet.

Once a month, I rode out to do inspections and meet with important individuals. If my orders were not taken seriously, I dealt with it justly and firmly. Thankfully, my talent with diplomacy and subtle tact often won the day. There was one letter which I always saved for last. It came once a week since I’d left the Reach. I kept it for after I had washed away the day’s stress and climbed into bed with a single candle burning. In the peaceful silence and darkness of my chambers, I allowed that secret, forbidden part of me to reveal itself: Ondolemar. He always wanted to know if I was happy, if my studies were going well, if I could share any new discoveries with him.

The vision of him slid through my mind like sunlight through leaves, and his unforgettable scent wrapped itself around me once again. It had been a long two winters. So much had happened I could barely comprehend where I was now. I was Archmage of the College. It had always been the last place I thought I'd encounter a crisis. The stone halls were usually filled with the sound of the quick, padded footsteps of apprentices and teachers, or the endless flipping of dusty pages as scholars delved into ancient mysteries of Aetherius or complex spells. I fell in love with the place as soon as I’d entered years ago; shortly after I'd arrived in Skyrim. Due to my quick grasp of concepts, reflexive skill, unwavering focus and a passion for learning, I had risen through the ranks relatively fast. In 6 years, I’d been deemed ready to teach if I so desired. I would have been content with that; but the Thalmor ambassador to the college, Ancano, had been plotting something. I had always tried my best to dodge the acidic mer; playing dumb usually did the job because he had no patience for stupidity. 

The expedition in to Saarthal had us delving a little too deep and we discovered something we shouldn't have - the Eye of Magnus. I was then promptly involved with the highly illusive Psyjic Order, who warned me about the orb’s danger through a magical vision. Ancano sought to use that power for his own ends as I always suspected, and almost destroyed what was left of Winterhold. Two wonderful leaders had given their lives that day; Archmage Savos Aren and Mirabelle Irvine, vice principal. I wasn’t ready for that; no one was. Tolfdir and I had eventually defeated Ancano using the orb itself. To cut a long story short, the Psyjic Order took the orb to hide it from the world and a few days later I'd been voted into the role of Archmage, despite my insistence that I didn’t feel I fully deserved the rank. They insisted that I was perfect for the position and would support me fully. How could I refuse the opportunity to change things; make things better? 

I had this entire floor to myself, which included a large bath. I began filling it with magically heated water and as I lowered myself into the delicious heat, I groaned. My stiff body relaxed and I rested my head against the rim. The mage lights which usually lit up the indoor herb garden began to float about the room, casting an ethereal glow through the steam. My mind wandered to the unopened letter from Ondolemar and I felt anticipation as I wondered what stories he had for me this week. After I’d left the Reach so abruptly, I believed we wouldn’t speak again. We shouldn’t have, but to my shock and guilty relief, the first letter from him had arrived a mere five days later. The writing was formal and stiff at first, but had relaxed back into a comfortable conversation as the months passed. We shared news, discoveries, amusing stories and he resumed asking for my advice and opinion on matters he was dealing with. I felt the loss of his company keenly.

The more letters we exchanged, the more I realized he truly found no joy in his work. He frequently framed his complaints in a way which implicated his father somehow. One day he revealed to me that it was indeed his father who had chosen this path for him. My heart sank. It was the will of my own father which had finally driven me to leave the Summerset Isles. Arranged marriage. I was told I would have to be docile, obedient, and unswervingly loyal. To provide a son and continue the family line. I recoiled at the memory of my former betrothed. Powerful families were never content with their lot. I hadn't been in contact with my mother since then; it was too dangerous. If my father knew my whereabouts, he'd be on a quiet warpath to retrieve me. Luckily I knew his pride would keep him from advertising my shameful disappearance. Curiously, Ondolemar had never demanded information from me, which I found strange. Thus, my anonymity remained intact. I wondered what he would be doing right now, and imagined his schedule would be similar to mine. He was probably hunched over his stone desk, scratching away at letters himself. He claimed that the townspeople had begun greeting him, which was an improvement to his day. He gave me the credit, saying it had been my influence. It made me smile. 

In my mind's eye I saw him bent over a letter, his quill making out that elegant, flowing script. The candle light would be throwing shadows over his sharp features, playing on his full mouth; shining in his silver hair. My heartbeat intensified. I imagined what he would be wearing; not those dark, forbidding Thalmor robes but perhaps a loose cotton shirt which parted a little at his neck, revealing the smooth column of his throat. Maybe some comfortable pants that sat low on his hips. His bare forearms would be resting on the table, showing faint veins and then those beautiful, strong hands. I would have liked to run a finger down that arm and over those knuckles. I recalled his smell again - a mixture of pine, Elven spice and fresh mountain snow. I imagined that he'd look over at me with a small smile, pull me into his lap and run his cool hands up my thighs. I unconsciously arched my back a little in the hot water, feeling his lips trail over my neck and make their way warmly up to the corner of my mouth where he would pause, and gaze at me deeply before entwining a hand in my hair and -

" –Azrielle..." A husky whisper said in my ear.

My eyes flew open. My whole body was tensed and aching. By the nine. I forced myself to relax, rubbing warm water through my hair as I tried to control my breathing. That - had flown way out of proportion. Had I fallen asleep? My body hummed and tingled all over, as though my imaginings hadn't been just that at all. Red heat crept over my cheeks. Feeling annoyingly unsettled, I rose from the water and dressed quickly. All the while, I threw sidelong glances at Ondolemar's unopened letter awaiting me on my bedside table. Never had I allowed my emotions to run away with me like that. For years, I was so consumed with my mission; with remaining focused on what I had to do. It was all that mattered…until now. The feeling both excited and scared me. At that moment however, my cool logic kicked back in and I sat heavily on my bed. My fate had no room for this. That's why I'd left Markarth, remember? To protect him; all of them. From what I am, and what I would eventually have to face...alone. 

I came to this very College years ago not out of mere interest, but to hone my magical skills as much as I could; to arm myself with knowledge. I fought with the Companions of Whiterun not simply to earn coin and glory, but to learn how to fight various enemies. I got myself into the Dark Brotherhood because I needed to learn how to keep guilt from ruining me; to harden my resolve. I ran with the Thieves Guild of Riften to learn how to use my surroundings and remain unseen. Why? Because I had been called to answer an ancient enemy that threatened the world, and navigate the dangers caused by those wanting to take advantage of it. Therefore, the fewer people who knew of me, the better. I couldn't involve anyone else. I could trust very few with my mission. The Thalmor were always digging to find some way to turn every catastrophe to their advantage. And they would do whatever it took to grab at more power. Anger sparked within me, but died just as quickly as I realized that Ondolemar was one of them. How was it possible to feel this heavy? This cold? So it was with solemn fingers and a heavier heart that I finally opened the letter, and began reading the neat script penned with a fine hand.

_Azrielle,_

_I sincerely hope that this letter finds you in good health. I fare far less well, for there are so few pleasures in life as fine as your company. Though your company is in the form of ink and parchment; I cannot diminish the fact that your eloquent, honest words are received with pleasure and welcome, as always._

Despite the renewed weight of my responsibilities, fears and anger, I smiled. Though Ondolemar was Thalmor - a Captain at that - his heart had softened a great deal. He had become more of the mer he wanted to be. That traitorous affection rose in me again and I had to fortify my resolve once more against such reactions. I read the remainder of his letter which consisted of general news, stories, and reports from the city. Old Calcelmo had even included a page or two. The tough old Dwemer researcher sent along his greetings and best wishes, along with his nephew Aicantar - who had quite the adorable crush on me. But we’d become companion researchers during my stay in the Reach; sharing an intense passion for new discoveries. I missed them. I frowned when I read the next few lines, however.

_I apologize that I must end on a darker subject. I did not wish to burden you with this Azrielle; but I could not keep it from you either. I have been informed by my father, that he wants to marry me off to a Thalmor councilor's daughter. In his words, it will 'solidify our ranking in the Dominion'. As usual, I had no say in the matter. You know well that my position in the Embassy was arranged by my father, and now he aims to take the liberty of giving my future away as well. Nothing solid has been planned, but I do not intend to accept this fate. I haven’t felt such anger in years, but your indomitable spirit fuels mine, despite the distance between us. I remain cautious for now, and will take care – as you asked of me. I trust you are doing the same, and will continue to do so. Warm regards, Ondolemar._

My heart plummeted to the bottom of my rib cage as I stared at the word 'marry'. I don't know for how long I sat that way, until I forced myself to read on. My emotions swirled within me in a tightening knot of disappointment and anger. No matter how hard I tried, I could not stop feeling. How could one person survive this way? It felt as though I would burst at the seams! Control? What control? How in Oblivion was I meant to control myself if I was already unraveling? I looked down at my fisted hands and let the ashen remains of his letter fall onto the cold stone floor. I’d unconsciously burnt it. I needed air. I strode out onto the moonlit rooftop of the College, barely keeping a grasp on my magic; but knew that steady breathing was not enough. I was so unbelievably angry, that it had taken on a mind of its own and black thunderheads gathered above me with a static rumble. Just for a moment, I wanted to let out all the emotions I was not permitted; the frustration, the loneliness, the hurt, the caution. So for one brief, impulsive moment - I did. I tipped my head back into the heavy raindrops beginning to fall, and I cried. The more I gave in, the louder it got. The wind swirled around me, lightning flashed and thunder boomed in my contained mini storm atop the roof. I raged at the world for its injustice, cruelty, greed and violence; at the simple unfairness of it all. For the fact that I couldn't love whom I wanted, because I had to somehow save the world and remain strong, even though it was horrible and sometimes I really just didn't want to.

After a few more moments reining in the sobs and gritting my teeth; I grew quiet. I knelt on the cold, wet stone, took a few deep breaths and unclenched my fists. No matter how upset I got or how unfair my lot was; it wouldn't change anything. These are my cards, and I will play them well or die trying. No one cares how I feel. The world needs saving and I was the only one who could do it apparently. So I pulled myself together, stood up, and commanded the storm to pipe down.

"Lok Vah Koor!" I said loudly, drawing on the ancient Voice of power within me. The stones shuddered beneath my feet.

The storm calmed and dissipated, revealing bright cold stars above. With one last deep breath, I turned and made for the door – only to find old Tolfdir standing calmly in the way. His expression was completely normal, though his eyes were alight with a thousand questions burning within. Oblivion, please swallow me.

“Feel a bit better, my dear?” he asked kindly, with a warm smile.

I let out the breath I had sucked in, and rested my hands on my hips in surrender, letting my shoulders sag. There was no lying to this old mage.

“Yes actually, master Tolfdir. You um, you won’t share this with anyone will you? Please?” I asked awkwardly. Masterfully handled, Azrielle. 

Tolfdir only smiled again, a little huff of laughter escaping him. “Not if you don’t want me to, Archmage.” His eyes sparkled. “Or should I say, Dragonborn?”

My heart skipped a beat, but I managed to remain composed somehow. Of course Tolfdir would know exactly what this was. Of course. I offered him a knowing smile, and threw in a little sheepishness too.

“Archmage will do, thank you Tolfdir.” I added, wiping at my red, scratchy eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it’s just not something everyone should know. Please, remain silent on this matter for now. Much is at stake.” I finished, suddenly feeling very tired.

The elderly teacher took my cold hands in his, and drew me inside. “Azrielle, I’ve suspected that you are more than you appear since the moment I first met you. After deciding that you are not a rotten sort of character out for revenge or destruction, I also knew that it was none of my business what personal information you shared or not.”

He smiled gently at me in the dim light, and my bottom lip quivered a little. He squeezed my hands.

“The burden you bear is a heavy one for someone so young, my dear. I would not wish it on anyone myself. Thus, I can only offer you my confidence and support in any way that I can. Have you spoken with the Greybeards?” he asked seriously, holding my eyes.

“I have. I know what I must do, though it seems impossible to me. They are teaching me, and I have a few allies helping me. I’d rather not say more, I hope you understand.” I answered.

I trusted Tolfdir with my life. He was my mentor and advisor, and probably knew me better than I realized. Yet, my circle had to remain a small one if I wanted to remain free of dangerous scrutiny. He only nodded slowly, and squeezed my hands once more.

“Very good. I am here if you need me, Archmage. Now, go and get some rest please. It’s very late and Brelyna is downstairs worried about you as well.” He gave my hand one last pat, then turned to leave.

“Thank you, master Tolfdir.” I said after him, and he gave a wave before disappearing down the stairs.

I took a moment to calm myself down. Ondolemar’s face swam to the front of my mind once more, and before the anguish could take me again I pushed him to the back of my thoughts. I needed to let this go, to let him go. I had to focus, and he wasn’t helping. Heart and body feeling colder and heavier than ever; I endeavored to respond to his letter in the morning – for the last time.


	8. Drastic Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months of burying himself in work, Ondolemar receives an invite from the Thalmor Ambassador that he cannot turn down; especially when he discovers who will be attending the same event. It was time to make a move...

A sharp knock sounded on Ondolemar’s chamber door and he flinched. Setting down the quill, he leaned back in the chair with a groan. How much time had passed since he started these damned reports? He sighed wearily. His mood had been unpredictable for the last two months. He recalled how concerned his two companions had been when Azrielle left Markarth so suddenly. Their back and forth letters kept him in good spirits usually, but two months ago the last letter from her had brought their communication to a halt. These days, he threw himself into work with lethal focus. He communicated with Raelyn and Braeth less and kept conversations either about work or general subjects. He knew how uncomfortable it made them, but couldn’t bear the effort it took to speak about Azrielle at all. Returning to the present, he answered the knock.

“Come.” He said loudly, rubbing his stiff neck and taking a sip of spiced wine.

Raelyn entered quietly, closed the door behind him and approached with a rolled piece of parchment in his gloved hand. He held it as though it would burn right through. Finally, his guard cleared his throat and spoke.

“Good morning Captain. Are you well today?” he asked a little nervously.

Suspicious, Ondolemar glanced up and gave him a flat look, “…Fine…why?” he asked slowly.

Raelyn held out the parchment reluctantly, appearing overly eager to exit the room. He felt his nerves go on edge. What now?

“This invitation arrived for you early this morning. You’ve been invited to the Embassy by Ambassador Elenwen. She’s having her quarterly soirée again –”

“– Again?” He interrupted with an exasperated sigh. “You already know my response, Raelyn. I have no desire to attend that nonsense, it’s just another chance for that woman to politely interrogate everyone and maneuver herself as usual.” He waved a hand in clear dismissal and made to resume his work.

Raelyn still held out the paper, however. “Look at the guest list, Ondolemar.” He added.

He paused at the tone, and slowly took the invitation from Raelyn’s stiff hand. With one last prolonged look at him, he opened it and began reading. Ondolemar felt the blood drain from his face as he paused on a name inked there on the list.

_Azrielle, Archmage of the College of Winterhold_  


After a long moment of silence, he heard Raelyn clear his throat and say something before leaving the room. He read over the name multiple times. Azrielle. Azrielle was attending this Thalmor event? He juggled reasons and possibilities as to why in Oblivion she would accept such an invitation. And why would Ambassador Elenwen want her there? Ondolemar knew for sure that Azrielle didn’t agree with what the Thalmor stood for; she’d confirmed that more than enough. He also knew that Azrielle strove to remain out of the limelight as much as possible. So why this? Why now? His chest tightened as he recalled her last letter, still neatly folded in his personal locker beside the bed. It was short, and held none of the usual comfort he had come to cherish.

_Ondolemar. I’m sorry I can offer no words to help you with your circumstance. I can only empathize with your anger; for long have I endured it myself. One of the many things I have come to learn and accept is that the more complicated one’s life becomes, the more danger there will be. The more one cares, the more the world may take. Eventually, one can no longer bear that kind of loss. It can make us weak; vulnerable. On that note, I must ask you to cease communication with me, Ondolemar. I cannot fully explain, and I apologize for this. All I can do now is hope that everything you deserve will be yours one day. Please, take care of yourself. Azrielle._

He’d felt so unexpectedly burdened by her words, that he barely slept that night. How could he accept that response? The warning she gave him couldn’t be ignored either. Azrielle was involved in something extremely dangerous, and she wanted to spare him somehow. He realized now that she had only ever retreated whenever the Thalmor were mentioned. Something was happening; Ondolemar just didn’t know exactly what. But that event might reveal something; might give him some kind of glimpse into her world that could help him to understand. He needed to know; wanted to be a part of her world, no matter the danger. It was selfish, but he couldn’t avoid this any longer. Azrielle was trying to achieve some great goal; he just needed to find out what that was, and how the Thalmor were involved.

Feeling more determined and decided than ever, he called his loyal guard and companion back into the room. Raelyn barely hid his worry now; Ondolemar felt guilty for his recent mood swings and strange behaviour. Neither Raelyn nor Braeth had never pushed him while he tried to sort out his emotions, and he promised to make it up to them somehow. Holding out the invitation, he stated his intentions.

“Accept this invitation, please. It’s about time I found out what was really going on in the Embassy. Something is happening, and I’m tired of staying out of it.” He handed the invitation back to Raelyn with a firm nod, and smiled for the first time in weeks.

Raelyn returned the smile, and saluted enthusiastically, “Yes, Captain.”

Before he took his leave, Ondolemar added, “Raelyn…” He paused and looked back.

“You two should join me for dinner. I need to discuss something important with you tonight.” Raelyn’s eyebrows rose in question, but he nodded firmly and shut the door behind him.

He wasn’t sure why, but felt as though events were leading him to some drastic change now. He pulled out a journal and began making notes. If this was his last chance to see Azrielle, it would be an ultimatum: See her one last time and say a final goodbye, or drop everything and pursue her. Anticipation swirled in his belly as he wrote down everything he knew for certain; the questions he had, what he truly wanted and how he could handle it all when he finally saw Azrielle at that event. It was make or break.

One thing was certain; the course of his life was about to be altered for better or worse. Ondolemar decided that whether Azrielle would take him or not, he was done with the Thalmor. He saw no reason to stay any longer. Either he would leave that Embassy beside Azrielle, or he would leave alone. But leave, he would. Even though it twisted his gut, he planned for the latter result as well. He’d get as far away from the Dominion as possible, and start over in some small town of no interest to his countrymen. He’d be alone, but free. He’d build a life for himself for once. It all rode on what happened at the Embassy in a week’s time.

That night, he ordered food to be brought to his private rooms and closed the doors firmly behind him. His companions were seated at the little stone table, both sporting a mixture of curiosity and anxiety on their familiar faces. Ondolemar sat and poured wine for the both of them, earning shocked glances. He chuckled, and then grew serious.

“Both of you please listen to what I have to say; for it will upturn our lives in a week’s time.” He clasped his hands in front of him and held each of their gazes so he knew that he had their full attention.

“First, you have the freedom to take absolutely no part in what I have planned. Second, the outcome of this plan cannot include either of you coming with me.”

They stared at him silently for a moment, and then glanced at each other. Raelyn spoke calmly, with certainty. “We believe we already know what this is about; and we will be with you right up until the moment we can no longer be, Captain.”

He studied his two oldest companions with affection. He trusted them with his life, but could not get them involved any more than absolutely necessary. They deserved a full explanation, however; so he provided one. They listened quietly, asking few questions. When their plates were empty, they rose to leave with the promise to be ready for whatever was needed of them. Ondolemar sent them off with a firm squeeze of their shoulders.

The days flew by, until Ondolemar finally climbed out of the carriage at the Thalmor Embassy. Icy snow crunched beneath his boots, and he pulled his hood closer about his face. He welcomed the frigid air though; he felt clammy and his stomach churned with unease. He took in the bleak mountainous surroundings and foreboding trees. Braeth and Raelyn had ridden out a day earlier with a few essential supplies, hiding them amongst the rocks for collection when he made his escape that night.

He was a little early, but a few guests had already arrived. Was Azrielle here yet? He impatiently handed over the invitation to the steward, who quickly saluted and waved him inside. Ondolemar nodded once and entered the forbidding structure. His nerves were playing havoc within, even as he wore the practiced stoic mask for all to see. Outwardly, Captain Ondolemar, head of the Thalmor Justiciars, coldly surveyed everything in his path. Ambassador Elenwen immediately stood in his way as he stepped inside, and he resisted the urge to groan. He’d never liked the woman, but dipped his head politely in greeting.

“Ah yes, Captain Ondolemar. You finally made it to my little soirée; it’s been some time since we last spoke in person.” She drawled in her infuriating, superior tone. 

“Ambassador Elenwen. My schedule has rarely allowed me the time to spare for such… events.” Ondolemar responded blandly, trying desperately to maintain eye contact while all he wanted to do was get into the main hall and look for Azrielle.

Of course, he was sure she would understand his meaning. It’s just that he didn’t much care. He wasn’t going to be around much longer for her to do anything about it. He found himself looking over her shoulder into the room beyond; searching for the one face he craved to see. Heart thudding, he knew she wasn’t here yet. He heard rather than saw Elenwen’s little ‘hm’ of disdain, and quickly flicked his eyes back to her ever-sneering face. She lifted her chin in unimpressed dismissal. Thank the gods.

“I’m sure.” She ground out. “Well, please enjoy the evening Captain. We can continue this conversation once all the guests have arrived.” She turned to slither into another conversation.

Ondolemar let out a breath in relief, and moved away to find a goblet of wine. A young wood elf handed him a fresh goblet over the drinks counter, looking somewhat distracted himself. Poor lad, his Bosmer cousin probably had no real desire to be here. Supposedly a part of the Dominion, they were reluctant allies. Ondolemar offered a quick nod in thanks, and walked over to the end of the room while trying to dodge guests already diving into politics and social gossip. He’d steer quite clear of that, thank you very much. The room slowly filled with more guests, and Ondolemar grew increasingly nervous as he watched the entrance. He remained in the darkened section of the room by the food tables, to avoid the curious looks of others. Just as he was about to refill his goblet once again, he stopped in his tracks and froze. A graceful, proud figure in black velvet slid off her hood gently dusted with snow. Azrielle offered her most polite smile to Elenwen as the Ambassador greeted her somewhat uncertainly. She was the picture of ease and confidence as usual. She wore no jewelry, but that gown…The heavy velvet hugged her lithe figure all the way to the floor; intricate gold embroidery glistening at her shoulders and cuffs. It was low cut in the front, with cris-crossing threads over her chest. Ondolemar swallowed painfully as he drank her in. Her jet black hair, elegantly pulled back from her face, shone in the candle light and her eyes were as sharp and intelligent as ever. She held her new power as Archmage perfectly, authority sitting easily upon her set shoulders. Admiration and pride welled up within his chest as he beheld her. Azrielle. He ached with longing. How he wished to stride over to her, take her face in his hands and kiss her like he should have that fateful night in Markarth!

Yet as he watched her now, she seemed so far beyond his reach even though they stood in the same room. Something akin to despair flashed through him for an instant as he realized he would never be able to catch up to her if she decided to disappear again. She was a force of nature, coming and going as she pleased, answering to no one. Ondolemar pushed aside his doubt, choosing to give this chance everything he had. As though hearing his intentions, Azrielle’s golden eyes suddenly slid right to his across the crowded room; like she had known all along that he was there. The only thing that gave away her surprise was a brief pause in her movement; then she recovered without a fault and returned her gaze to Elenwen. The hostess was clearly questioning her, but Azrielle responded without hesitation.

Just then, the wood elf interrupted a highly annoyed Elenwen with some enquiry and Azrielle swiftly disentangled herself from the woman to casually make her way in Ondolemar’s direction. She wove through the guests like water as they seemed to instinctually part for her. A brief flash of panic shot through him, and he set down his goblet to steady himself. He couldn’t look away. He tried to read her expression, but failed and she was suddenly in front of him. He fought not to take small step back.

“Ondolemar?” She said in a low voice, her eyes flicking to either side of the room quickly. 

It took a moment to remember to speak, and Ondolemar swiftly composed himself even though his body felt as though it were on fire. He greeted her quietly, not trusting his impulses around her. He still wasn’t accustomed to that feeling. He didn’t think he ever would be. He somehow managed to keep his voice steady when he greeted her.

“Lady Azrielle.” And because he couldn’t help himself; “You look lovely.” He added; squeezing a fist at his side in order to remain calm.

She cast a thorough, assessing look over him and his skin tightened as it always had whenever she looked at him that way. They stood like that for a long moment, just taking each other in. Her presence completely drowned out the rest of the room. The guests faded into the background along with the noise. It looked like she wanted to say something else, but sighed instead with a look of concern sliding into her eyes.

“Ondolemar, you avoid parties like the plague; what brings you here?” she asked with a slight edge to her tone.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t describe how wonderful it was to simply hear her voice again. The way she said his name. Pulling himself together, he fought to remain focused on indeed why he was here.

“I would ask the same of you, Azrielle.” He responded; his tone steady so that she knew he was serious.

Her look sharpened at his response. Gods, her mouth. _Focus Ondolemar._ He struggled to maintain eye contact, but that wasn’t much easier. His hands begged to reach out and touch her, and he had to clasp them tightly behind his back. Azrielle’s guarded expression faltered a little, and she turned her face away to try and hide it. Her silence pained him, and he impulsively reached a hand out to touch her arm. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as he made physical contact. His heart skipped a beat; what did that mean? It appeared she hadn’t expected to see him here tonight. She’d been taken off guard and he noticed her struggling with their sudden meeting. He still affected her, then. He decided to take advantage of that fact, and offer the truth. She saw straight through him, anyway.

“Azrielle, please.” He continued, keeping his voice low and checking that no one watched them. “I understand that you have much to hide; that there is some danger you wish to spare me from. But I’m asking you not to; not anymore. Please.” He pleaded gently.

Ondolemar could only hope that those words conveyed his earnest feelings. Azrielle didn’t pull away from his touch, but her shoulders sank a little. Her mask was cracking. He felt static electricity tingle through his fingers where he touched her. Her lips pressed into a tight line as she fought to maintain her composure. With a meaningful look, she turned and moved into a secluded hallway. Emotion welled in Ondolemar’s chest and he followed her, praying that she would finally confide in him or just give him some solid answer to leave with. No one had noticed them disappear from view; being the self-absorbed creatures they all were.

As he rounded the corner, he found Azrielle standing very still in the shadows; waiting for him. He moved close to her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Not wanting to push too far, Ondolemar waited quietly; even though his body was screaming to reach out for her. Ever so slowly, Azrielle lifted a hand and her fingertips stroked his cheek just like they had in Markarth. He felt the tingle of electricity through their point of contact, and his breathing hitched. She finally raised her eyes to meet his; her scent enveloped him, and the warmth of her skin called to him. He couldn’t handle this, even though he’d mentally prepared himself for a week prior! He was getting dizzy with their close proximity, and had to reach out one hand for the wall for support; he closed his eyes desperately to try and contain himself. Too much; this was too much to bear after wanting her for so long.

“Azrielle, please…I can’t, I can’t –” He rasped helplessly; his heart pounding. Did she know what she did to him? 

Then he felt her cool hands on his face, and opened his eyes to find Azrielle gazing up at him through dark lashes. Her eyes were molten with a heat that threatened to overwhelm him; they stared at each other and time seemed to slow. Ondolemar gently took one of her hands and placed a kiss in her palm; his eyes never leaving hers. He felt her shiver and her lips parted. She leaned closer and tipped her head back; gauging his response. Blood pounding through his veins, he leaned into her; gently pressing her into the cool stone wall at her back. Azrielle sucked in a breath, then firmly pulled his face down to hers and pressed her mouth to his. Heat flared joyfully through him as he savored the feel of her. Gods, he could lose himself right now. His mouth moved easily against hers; like it was the most natural thing in the world. He felt her lips part for him, and he slowly swept his tongue in to taste her fully. A quiet groan escaped his throat, and he felt her wind her arms around his neck. He withdrew and pressed kisses over her cheek; her jaw, and was delighted as she tilted her head back to allow him access to her throat. He breathed in deeply and trailed his mouth over the smooth, warm skin; feeling her hair brush his face. She let out a little moan, and dug her fingers into his chest. The effect on his body was instant, and hard enough to hurt. Ondolemar took her mouth again hungrily; holding her face in his hands. Azrielle tried to pull him even closer. Breathing heavily, he left her lips a little swollen from his kisses and simply wondered at her; loving the way she felt; loving the way she made him feel; loving her. Azrielle watched him with heavy-lidded eyes; so many emotions swimming there. However, her look hardened once more as she pulled away, and his hands were left empty. 

“Be safe, Ondolemar.” She said suddenly; then turned and disappeared around the corner before he could react.

He became aware that someone was making a scene in the room beyond. Ondolemar’s senses reeled, and he took a few deep breaths to try and compose himself before following her. Damnation. His body was throbbing with need and he felt lightheaded. All the guests were gathered around one man who appeared to be making a rather drunken speech; Elenwen seethed in one corner as she glared at the man. Ondolemar ignored the spectacle; desperately searching the room for Azrielle. Just when he thought he’d lost her, he noticed the wood elf across the room close the door behind him at the wine counter. There. So she wasn’t here by chance after all; she had made sure she could be here. Forcing himself to clear his muddled mind, he fought to think of a way to pursue her without being seen himself. She’d still be in the building for a while; searching for something he was sure. The drunkard was escorted out the door a minute later, and guests snickered gleefully at the performance. What a delicious bit of gossip this would make for their social circles. The Thalmor guards were back on alert at their posts, and the guests resumed milling about the room for conversation. Damn. 

“Captain Ondolemar, I thought I’d lost you for a moment. How are your duties in the Reach? Has there been progress with your mission?” Elenwen’s snotty voice almost made Ondolemar jump.

He turned to face her impatiently; knowing he was stuck. He forced a polite expression and answered her questions as briefly as he could; hoping she’d lose interest. It was in vain, as it seemed she was highly accustomed to dealing with those who weren’t overly joyful about their jobs. Ondolemar’s frustration bordered on panic as he thought of Azrielle sneaking through the Thalmor Embassy on her own. She could already be gone! He barely heard the Ambassador’s voice now. What should he do? There was a shudder beneath his feet, and a shout arose from outside in alarm. What in Oblivion?

“Intruder! Go! Check the lower floors! You! Go around the building NOW!” The captain of the guard shouted from just outside the entrance doors.

Ondolemar acted quickly, striding toward the doors and in a firm voice; addressed Elenwen. “I’ll go as well. Remain here Ambassador; we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

Then he launched himself out the front door, and shouted for the guards to remain for the guests’ protection. His natural, commanding tone and Captain’s uniform had them hesitating, before saluting and turning back. He saw the guard captain disappear out the front gate, and sprinted through the snow to catch up to him. If Azrielle was acting alone, she could be dead in minutes; or they would have her chained in the torture chamber shortly. His skin crawled where only moments before, it had been on fire with pleasure. He knew that something was going to happen tonight, but this? Azrielle’s last words echoed in his head; “Be safe.” Pushing all questions aside, he bolted down the road around the Embassy building; finally sighting the guard captain – who had his hands raised to release a destruction spell. Further down the road, three figures broke out of the dark trees. One was clad in light hooded armor, and was supporting a beaten looking fellow in tatters. The young wood elf was there too; though he quickly said something to the hooded figure and then sprinted away into the distant trees. At that moment, the figure’s hood slipped off her head in the winter wind, and Azrielle’s dark hair whipped around her head as she quickly cast a healing spell on the stranger with her. She hadn’t noticed him or the Thalmor guard on the hill who was about to release the spell he’d been preparing. His arms were raised, ready to attack.

Taking a split second to decide, Ondolemar unsheathed his blade and punched it through the guard captain’s back. The mer cried out in surprise and agony, and slumped to the frozen ground. Ondolemar’s heart sank as another shout of alarm sounded close behind him; more Thalmor guards had witnessed the murder he’d just committed. Below, Azrielle stood unmoving; staring up at him and the dead body at his feet in shock. Glancing behind him at the guards now in pursuit, Azrielle lunged toward him with burring speed; her arms wreathed in blue lightning. The magic illuminated alien eyes which Ondolemar had never seen on Azrielle before: Cold, lethal focus. Ondolemar felt rooted to the spot as she reached him; skin crackling with electricity and eyes blazing. Her eyes locked onto his, and they needed no words. Together, they turned to face the ten Thalmor now gathered to attack them. Ondolemar raised his Elven blade, and summoned fire into his left hand; while Azrielle began murmuring another spell. Suddenly, twin Oblivion gates opened behind her; ripping open the air and enveloping them with the characteristic sulphur smell. Ondolemar balked in spite of all his combat training; glancing in shock at Azrielle, who seemed completely at ease harnessing that much power. A storm atronach and dremora lord materialized, and immediately flanked their mistress; waiting for their orders. Flawless. The summoning was flawless. Azrielle stood rooted to the ground; her focus totally on the foes before her. Ondolemar swallowed his awe and turned back to their attackers.

Ice spikes shot toward them through the falling snow, and Ondolemar barely had a chance to raise a shield because Azrielle was faster; much faster. A thick wall of pulsing energy blocked the ice; shattering the spikes at their feet. Not letting them get another chance to cast, Azrielle said one word and the storm atronach sprang into action; weaving chain lightning amongst the enemy group to cause panic. Azrielle looked to Ondolemar and shouted, “NOW!” and sent her own hair-raising bolts of lightning at the Thalmor. Shields melted and hair burned. The terrifying dremora lord roared something in his ancient tongue and charged forward; wielding a wicked greatblade and equally wicked grin. Ondolemar forced himself to move, and quickly let his strict combat training take him over. He whirled and spun, cutting and stabbing; easily dodging the panicked attacks of his opponents. He didn’t allow himself to think; just to act. Blue flashes of lightning; red mage fire and blades blurred around them as they fought. Thalmor warriors were no pushover; they received training just as extensive as his was, for years. Yet nothing touched Azrielle in that fight. Magic bounced harmlessly off her shields and she twisted effortlessly out of range of Elven blades. When someone got too close, he saw an ethereal bound blade shimmer into her hand just in time to open a throat, and then she was gone; already choosing her next target. Ondolemar could barely keep track of her; she was a dark, storm shadow amongst them. Still he fought; still the atronach struck from a distance; still the dremora lord hacked and slashed at armored chests and cleaved weapons in two. Once or twice the servant had even intercepted attacks that were meant for his own back. How did the woman command such loyalty and obedience in summoned servants? He pushed all his questions to the back of his mind until the fight was finally over. 

“Let’s go, move!” Azrielle ordered; grabbing his arm and making for the forest before more Thalmor arrived. 

Bodies lay strewn around them in bloody, charred heaps and pieces. He turned away quickly and ran after her into the snow storm; which had worsened considerably. As soon as they were sure they wouldn’t be followed this far into the forest, Azrielle said a word to her servants with a hand over her heart, and they nodded to her before disappearing. What was that? He knew Azrielle was a talented mage, but magic was like breathing to her. They continued in silence for a few more minutes before Azrielle motioned to a nearby cave for shelter. No one would follow them into this snow storm at night; they could rest until dawn. Exhausted, he slid to the floor further into the cave. There was no sign of the stranger that was with Azrielle before. He probably escaped before the fight began. Azrielle stood silently at the cave entrance; her breathing even as she scanned the darkness for pursuers. She seemed completely unshaken. His curiosity burned as he watched this incredible side of Azrielle unfold. Just who was this woman, really? He realized that the person he met in Markarth was but a fraction of who Azrielle truly was. There was wisdom in keeping one’s true power a secret; especially when one was surrounded with potential enemies whose intentions and skills were also unknown. So much made sense to him now; but not all. Azrielle had allowed him to accompany her this far, but tomorrow was something else. He wouldn’t push any more until she was ready. Hopefully, she knew now what his true intentions were. Though what he’d done to show it, put a bitter taste in his mouth; he’d murdered a group of his own people tonight. Ondolemar gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He had not prepared for that at all. 

Azrielle finally turned, and walked further into the cave to retrieve what looked like a pack of supplies. She’d put that here in preparation then, just like he had done. They weren’t far from the spot where his own supplies hid. Azrielle eased herself onto the ground beside him and bought out a bedroll and some food; which she silently handed to Ondolemar. He accepted it, and watched as she started a small fire; they were well hidden here and wouldn’t be seen. Finally, some warmth crept back into his bones as the flames took to the wood. Azrielle broke off a chunk of bread and cheese, chewing slowly. Ondolemar also ate in silence, even though he had no appetite. They sat together quietly; watching the flames and lost in their own thoughts for a while. Eventually, Azrielle shifted and he turned to look at her. The firelight caught her eyes as she glanced at him, but her gaze was guarded. She was achingly beautiful; unimaginably powerful and even more complex than he ever thought possible. His chest tightened at the thought of discovering more about her and her world.

“Get some sleep, Ondolemar. We leave at dawn and can talk on the way.” She murmured; handing him a thick cloak.

He took it from her gratefully; still watching her eyes. “Where?” he asked; his voice sounding a little strained to his ears. She was taking him with her. He didn’t allow his hopes to rise too high though.

Azrielle positioned her pack to use as a makeshift pillow. “Falkreath.” She answered, and lay down close by near the fire. 

Avoiding the burning desire to ask a hundred more questions, he pulled the cloak over himself and lay down as well. The stone beds of Markarth he’d managed to get used to with layers of straw and furs; but this was going to hurt in the morning. He tried not to think about it too hard, and settled into a tolerable position. All that could be heard was the howling wind outside, and the crackle of the small fire. Flashes of the fight played through his mind as he remembered how Azrielle moved with that lethal grace and effortless power at her fingertips. Despite the danger and chaos, he couldn’t help but relive their kiss as well. The memory burned deep within him, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“Ondolemar?” Azrielle said softly.  
“Yes?” He answered carefully.  
A pause.  
“…Thank you. For tonight.” She continued.

Did she mean the kiss? Or for defending her from that Thalmor captain? He wasn’t sure, but accepted it all the same.

“You’re welcome.” He said after a moment.

Azrielle said no more. There was so much he wanted to say; so much he needed to ask; but this wasn’t the time. She said they were going to Falkreath tomorrow – together; that was enough for now. He was officially an enemy of the Thalmor Embassy; but he was free. He had no delusions of strolling off into the sunset however; the Embassy would hunt him forever for what he’d done. His father would be in a rage once he heard the news. What would his mother think of him? The disgrace would hang over his family for some time, but he was surprised at how little that affected him. Ondolemar eventually fell into a heavy sleep; feeling a mixture of conflicting emotions pull him deeper down. There were no dreams, thank the gods; just a still darkness which carried him through the night. He awoke to Azrielle gently shaking him; her face close enough to caress. The new dawn felt brighter and clearer than ever before.


	9. Unexpected Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrielle is faced with a difficult and unexpected decision, after Ondolemar made himself an enemy of the Embassy to help her. Her suspicion of his intentions haunts her, and she needs to figure out how to finally put it to rest - but Ondolemar is not making rest easy. Especially when he's always too close...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've posted! Apologies to those who have been waiting! Thank you for your patience :)

I checked our surroundings for the hundredth time that day. I felt as though all the eyes in Tamriel were upon us as we hugged the foothills of the Reach mountains to our right. However, the one set of eyes that I could feel burning into my back every step of the way belonged to Ondolemar, who had been maintaining the punishing pace with me the last three days. This completely unexpected turn of events had me lost in my own thoughts; moving only out of instinct rather than present focus. He’d astounded me with his response to our passionate kiss, saved my life and killed some of his own faction to defend me. Gratitude, desire and anxiety twisted into a knot in my belly; how was I supposed to deal with this? This was new to me and it made me nervous. No one had ever shown such sacrificial loyalty to me before, besides my own mother. 

The farm noises of Rorikstead shook me free of my mental dilemma and I paused my unrelenting march to scan the area. The Thalmor would be thoroughly searching the holds for them for a while yet; I didn’t want us to be seen at all right now. Us. I glanced back at Ondolemar who had remained behind me the whole way; saying very little. I could see the questions burning in him every time our eyes met; he was cautiously holding back his curiosity. I didn’t blame him; I’d revealed far too much of myself that fateful night. He discovered much about my abilities, though not all. Thus, I had to be even more careful going forward. His clothing was almost in tatters from travelling so roughly and wouldn’t hold out for the rest of the journey to Falkreath. I would have to take the risk of purchasing traveling gear for him here.

“We’ll rest here for a short while. I need to make a few purchases in town; so keep yourself hidden and do not be seen on the road.” I said, pulling my hood over my head and pointedly ignoring the way he was unbuttoning the shirt at his chest to cool off.

Ondolemar gave me a troubled look at the idea, but didn’t argue. Strange; usually he would jump to point out the flaws in my logic, but that was before…before he caught a glimpse of me – the real me.

“Alright…be careful.” He said quietly, watching me. He’d gone still; fingers paused over the buttons of his undershirt. 

I nodded, and slowly walked toward the town. His manner had definitely changed. He wasn’t as confident around me as he used to be; he was more reserved and cautious no. Did he fear me? Did he now think of me as a ruthless killer and thief? Or was it simply because we’d shared such an intimate moment that night, but we hadn’t spoken a word about it? I’d have to think about it later. For now, we just needed to get to real safety. As I reached the first inhabitants of the small town, I put on an expression just friendly enough to pass as a local hunter, making her way through the region. Thank the gods; no one got suspicious enough to question me. I avoided the few guards who seemed more interested in dozing off than being truly vigilant, and slipped into the local outfitter’s store. I picked out some slightly heavier leathers, gloves, boots and cloak for Ondolemar. The shopkeeper kept giving me doubtful looks as I browsed the larger sizes.

“Are these for you, hunter? Or someone else perhaps?” he asked tentatively, not wanting to sound too rude for lack of sales. 

“I know his size, thank you.” I responded with a knowing smile; not completely fake.  
The shopkeeper grinned and winked.

Oh yes, I knew Ondolemar’s size very well indeed. The depth of my observation of him bought a little heat to my cheeks, as I could perfectly recall the image of him in my mind’s eye. The way he’d moved in that fight, lithe and fast as a flash…even as he slept at night I watched him; took in the lines of his resting face. I studied the rise and fall of his sculpted chest beneath his cotton shirt, and still felt the desperate need to feel him under my hands and on my lips once again. That kiss…gods how would I ever recover from that? I had been consumed by it that night; unable to resist any longer as the thought of never seeing him again almost broke me. I had to physically resist the urge to touch him now; the close proximity to him had been grating on my nerves as a result. I shook off the rising heat within me, made payment and bought more food for the road before heading back out to Ondolemar; making sure no one followed. 

Ondolemar wasted no time changing into the new leathers; pulling off his shirt to reveal that body I had been dreaming about almost every night. After a beat, I quickly turned and gathered our meager belongings to hide my stare. He eventually moved into my vision to strap on his blade. Oblivion take me; he looked like an Elven god in those leathers. It revealed his lithe, powerful form in a way that promised swift death…or complete, passionate ruin. Was it both, that I found so infuriatingly attractive? Promising to properly deal with…all this…when I got home, we set out once more and pushed to make Falkreath in the next three days. In the evenings, we began to speak a little easier again. Ondolemar avoided intimate questions, but wanted to know about the area and the people. As always, I admired his insight and desire to understand things the way I did. By the time we reached Falkreath Hold, we traveled in a comfortable companionship; both silently understanding that things would be dealt with eventually.

Part of me wished that we could just travel like this forever; adventuring and seeing all of Skyrim; being together every night and discovering ancient secrets every day in the old ruins that dotted the province. I could see that future so clearly, because it’s what I realized I wanted so badly that it hurt. Now that he was with me, right here; that desire to forge my own future was brighter than ever before. A future together, and free. However, we had arrived at the familiar road to Falkreath Hold; there lay the end of the path for Ondolemar and I; the end of what could have been. My throat closed up, but I swallowed it as I always did. I glanced over at Ondolemar, only to see him glancing at me in the same way. I quickly cleared my throat and made an excuse for my strange expression.

“We’re almost there. Its been a long while since I’ve been home.”

Ondolemar nodded silently, but closely took in the place I called home. There were only a select few who knew the exact location of my home; I had chosen a plot away from prying eyes when I had it built. Bringing him here may very well be a mistake, but at least here I could control what may happen if he proved a traitor after all. My heart recoiled at the idea, but I always prepared for multiple outcomes. Always. 

“I’ve never been this far South in Skyrim. It’s peaceful here.” Ondolemar took in a deep breath, and exhaled. “Why did you choose to make your home here?” he asked.

“For the same reason. It’s quiet, and I made myself useful to the Jarl –“ I stopped short. Why was it so damned easy to tell him things? But he only nodded, and kept walking.

“Anyway, the locals and I have a good relationship and we keep to ourselves. We are safe here, for the most part…as long as we keep our heads down and don’t attract attention from outsiders.” I added. 

Finally, the gates of Falkreath came into view through the thick trees. I gestured to Ondolemar to slow and wait while I check for any suspicious activity. Nothing seeming amiss, we skirted the town and made our way into the forest beyond.

“Your home isn’t within the town walls?” Ondolemar asked quietly from beside me.

“No; I chose a plot mostly hidden by the trees. I like the solitude.” I answered reluctantly, feeling a weight settle on me with each step.

“A plot? You were granted land then?” He said, surprised. I kept silent.

“You never cease to impress me, Azrielle.” He added softly, then said no more.

My keeping silent made me seem like a shady thug. I could hardly reveal how I earned that land, could I? On the young Jarl’s behalf, I murdered a group of bandits that had cut him out of profits they were making from raids. I cringed at myself; it was dirty work, but it secured me a safe place to come back to. I silently apologized for my behavior and whatever atrocities Ondolemar thought up at my lack of response. Passing a hunter’s cabin, we entered a small clearing and Lakeview Manor rose up quietly before me; my little haven. The tight feeling in my chest eased as my home greeted me; it felt like forever since I’d been here last.

“Azrielle?” A female voice asked tentatively from the tree line alongside the house.

I turned to find Rayya, my Redguard housecarl, watching me carefully from a distance. Her hands rested firmly on her twin scimitar blades at her hips. She looked just as foreign and dangerous as the first time we’d met. I trusted the woman with my life; she didn’t ask too many questions and held honour in high regard. We had become fast friends over time, after the Jarl had assigned her to me. Ondolemar didn’t know that I was Thane of Falkreath. I needed to figure out how much to tell him, and what to do from here. But for now, I smiled at my friend and held up a hand.

“Rayya. I’m home.” I called. She smiled easily when she saw my expression, but watched Ondolemar closely as she approached us.

“Meet Ondolemar; the former Thalmor Captain of Markarth.” I stated plainly. 

Rayya’s smile vanished. Ondolemar’s head whipped toward me; a blank stare adorning his rigid features. I held up my hands and added, “Calm down. Let’s all get inside, shall we? We could use some dinner. And a bath.”

Without another word, I let myself in and breathed a sigh of relief to have a roof over my head again. Ondolemar followed me inside, looking at everything with an intense interest; his eyes widening a little at all the rare and unique items I owned. Rayya brought up the rear, looking highly suspicious and truly uncomfortable.

“Ondolemar, I’ll show you where you can get clean. I have a few things to discuss with Rayya.” I said, gesturing for him to follow. 

“Yes, of course. Perhaps a little context would be beneficial as well? Your hoursecarl looks about ready to slit my throat. Twice.” He added, glancing at Rayya’s scimitars with a respectful dip of his head.

Despite it all, my mouth twitched into a quick smile. He caught that, and offered one in response. Ah, how long had it been since I’d really smiled? Rayya noticed the little exchange of looks, and her brow rose in that characteristic “I see” look she had. She knew. Of course she knew. Her shoulders loosened, and she hid a little knowing grin as she moved to the fire-pit to add to the meal. With a sigh, I took Ondolemar to the back room to get cleaned up and returned to Rayya. As I sat down with another tired sigh, Rayya threw me a look that just said “tell me everything”. I poured myself some spiced wine and shared a shortened version of all that had occurred since I left Falkreath.

“Gods above, Azrielle.” She eventually responded, sitting across from me at the table and shaking her dark head.

Glancing toward where Ondolemar was, she leaned in closer and asked quietly, “Are you sure he can be trusted? He is precisely the type you DON’T want sniffing around you! And now he’s HERE, in your safehouse that barely anyone knows about…for a good reason.”

I ran my hands through my hair, and leaned back in my seat. I felt exhausted in every way and really just wanted a hot bath, food and then a few more cups of spiced wine by the fire perhaps. I needed time to think.

“I’m not entirely sure yet, Rayya. But he did make himself an enemy of the Embassy, to help me escape. It’s – it’s complicated.” I said, trailing off.

“I can see that.” She answered, her eyes twinkling a little.

“Um, am I interrupting?” Ondolemar said, pausing in the doorway.

Oh gods, how much had he heard? “N-no. Please, sit.” I said tightly, showing him a chair. I shot Rayya a serious look, then rose to take that much needed bath.

I returned to the fire a half hour later, feeling much less fuzzy and finally clean. Two bowls of stew sat steaming on the table, along with two cups of spiced wine. And Ondolemar; looking again like an Elven god sitting on a throne in his clean cotton shirt and linen pants. The glow of the fire flickered across his contemplative gaze as he sat quietly taking in the manor and everything in it. This was the vision I had imagined of him before; sitting at his desk in the evenings and writing reports. But now, he was in my house, and we were alone. Rayya was nowhere to be seen. Ondolemar noticed my presence a little late, and straightened.

“Apologies, I poured us some wine. Your housecarl said she would continue her report in the morning.” He said, his eyes flickering over me thoroughly. Warmly.

How did he know she was my housecarl? I nodded my thanks a little distractedly. I had changed into a loose tunic and fitted pants; my neck left bare. His eyes caused tingles down my legs, even though the look he’d given me was merely a glance. I watched me still. I sat down swiftly, avoiding his eyes as I felt heat creep into my cheeks again. Not now, please. We ate in ravenous silence for a few minutes; too hungry to make real conversation. When our bellies were finally full, we sat watching the fire. Well, I was watching the fire. I was watching anything that wasn’t Ondolemar at that moment. I felt that if I really took him in and looked too long, that he would just disappear like a figment in my daydreams. But it was safer for him to be just that, wasn’t it? I already decided that if he were anything more, it would cause too many problems, too many complications. I knew that already!

Then why in Oblivion did I bring him here?

Why had I risked my identity to bring him with me? What on earth was I doing? I should tell him to leave tomorrow; I should. I should finally face him and tell him that he cannot stay here. I should –

“Azrielle. You are eventually going to look at me, aren’t you?” Ondolemar’s gentle tone bought me out of my thoughts like coming up out of water.

I finally turned and met his eyes. Was that concern I saw there? No, it was something quieter and deeper. Something patient and enduring that he had been holding in for quite some time now. Oh gods, no. I stood and moved closer to the fire with my wine; if only to hide my face for a bit. I cannot do this. I cannot…what? Acknowledge how he may feel about me? Tell him to leave? Tell him how I really feel? Contain myself? I took another gulp of wine, clearing my throat.

“Apologies, I was…somewhat lost in thought.” I took a steadying breath and turned toward him once more, reluctantly.

“Tell me, Ondolemar. What will you do now? You are no longer Thalmor. You are free.”

He watched me with an intensity that made me shift my weight slightly and fiddle with my cup. After a pause he lowered his wine, stood and stood in front of me; too close. He then took my hand, placed it over his heart and held it there firmly. My heart thudded in my chest, skipping a few beats and everything went too quiet in my ears. I stared at him, and he stared right back.

“I will go where you go, Azrielle Vitherion. To the end of the world, and back again if that is required…if you will have me by your side; for whatever purpose you need me. I am yours.” He stated gently.

My wine cup slipped from my fingers; spiced wine splashing into the fire and causing an eruption of sparks around us. Ondolemar raised my palm to his full mouth, pressing a soft kiss there. Hot, blazing desire coiled tightly between my thighs until it was an ache. I could feel his breathing deepen against my skin, and my pulse quickened in my veins. I wanted to kiss him until our lips were a little swollen. I wanted to unbutton his shirt and run my hands over his warm ivory skin. I wanted him to carry me to the bed, undress me slowly and make love to me like we were the only two mer in Tamriel. I wanted to love him like I had never loved anyone before.

“Azrielle…” he whispered, his voice deep and low. His eyes were a dark, molten emerald. “…Please.” He slid his other hand alongside my neck. My back arched into his touch, pressing my body into his and setting me alight with new desire and a dizzy, unraveling feeling. Just as I was about to give in, he spoke.

“I know there is much I do not know. But please, consider me. This. Us. Please.” He finished, finally taking a small step away and breathing unevenly.

My entire body buzzed and ached as I stood in stunned silence. Ondolemar squeezed my hand once more and made his way up the stairs; leaving me by the fire in a state of barely controlled chaos. I’m not sure for how long I stood there, but eventually my breathing evened out and an empty hole had replaced the aching heat. Ondolemar’s words repeated in my mind over and over; my skin tingling wherever he’d touched me. He knew my family name. How long had he known? How long ago had he decided not to act on the information? Why hadn’t he told me he knew who I truly was? I then noticed that the fire had been reduced to embers, and the house was dark. Feeling suddenly exhausted, I made my way upstairs into my room and fell into bed. As I lay there however, I realized that Ondolemar lay just a room away, behind mine. Was he still awake, I wondered? Trying to control his own thoughts and emotions?

I finally fell into a deep, dark sleep; filled with moments I had shared with Ondolemar. Some were simple and quite plain, some were more significant, and the more recent ones were much more. I replayed the week we’d traveled together, and suddenly so many little things made sense to me. Like the fact that he hadn’t complained once on the journey; or asked any probing questions. Of course, I couldn’t ignore the way he looked at me. I’d catch him out the corner of my eye sometimes, always watching me with quiet caution. When I woke the next morning, I promised myself to be productive and lay my thoughts to rest for a while by working on reports and writing letters. I needed a sense of normalcy to get me back into my own body and mindset. 

Ondolemar gave me space. He kept his distance as much as possible, and I often found him reading in the library or doing some basic sword training outside. He didn’t push or insist; but offered to be put to work in any way I needed. Rayya had him enchanting weapons, renewing protection spells and even chopping wood. I had tentatively asked him to help draft College reports and answer requests for me; he’d done so eagerly.It was that way for a fortnight. It gave me time to consider how to move forward. As much as I wanted to fully trust Ondolemar, I could not ignore the lengths that the Thalmor could go to, for the information they truly wanted. It left a small, dark suspicion within me that I needed to confront one way or another. I decided to take a break from my work, and idly left the house to look for him.

I found Ondolemar training amongst the trees; spinning his blade in complex motions and weaving through the trunks effortlessly. His cotton shirt was open at the chest, and more than a little transparent from his exertion. My core tightened. I should leave. But I delayed just enough for him to catch sight of me and he jogged over. Oblivion swallow me now. He was breathing heavily, but his eyes shone the usual crisp, leaf green as he greeted me.

“I’ve seen you fight, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever witnessed. Will you show me a little, Azrielle?” he asked plainly.

I considered uneasily. It was true; he had already seen me fight. Then a thought occurred to me; what if he truly did see what I was capable of? Would he flee? Or perhaps he would slip away to report to the Embassy? This could be part of a test, I thought; a test to ultimately determine where his loyalty lay. That nagging suspicion could finally be dealt with. Thoughts of the results threatened to open a hole within me after what he’d said that night by the fire, but this had to be done. My anonymity was paramount, if I was to finish my mission as quickly as possible. All of Tamriel relied on me. So I nodded my agreement.

“Alright Ondolemar. Attack me.” I said, my mind easily slipping into my combat training. His expression turned uncertain at my easy stance.

“…Now?” he asked hesitantly “You don’t have a weapon.”

“Now.” I answered, turning everything off inside of me, until there was only breath and focus.

After a pause, he unsheathed his blade and struck, but I was nowhere to be seen.

I allowed all my training to flow through me as I unleashed myself. As one of the Dark Brotherhood, I became a shadow amongst the trees; a blur of silent movement. I never stayed in one position too long, not giving him a chance to settle his eyes on me. Ondolemar spun in circles, desperately looking for me. As one of the Thieves Guild, I snuck up close to him, and easily unsheathed the dagger from his belt before shooting out of range again. My feet barely touched the ground, and he felt nothing; still turning to scan the darkening trees around him. I quickly lay a blunting spell on the dagger to remove the edge. It felt good to let loose and not think; to be something feared. Then, as one of the Companions, I shot forward into his view to give him a chance to cross blades with me; striking at the opening he unknowingly gave me.

With a surprised grunt, he just managed to parry the attack; but it was too slow. I had already whipped around and swept his feet from underneath him. He hit the ground with a sharp “oof!” but quickly rose and changed his stance to a more defensive one. I was nowhere to be seen again. His breathing had quickened, and his expression was now carefully blank; almost nervous as he looked for me again. 

“Azrielle…?” he called uncertainly.

I launched myself from the tree line and threw attacks at him as fast as I could. He barely kept up, but I acknowledged his skill nonetheless. After a minute of blurring blades, dodges and parries, I decided it was time to bring in some magic. I disappeared into the shadows and left Ondolemar panting for breath. I could have ended him at least five times in the last few minutes.

“Are you impressed, Ondolemar?” I asked in a low voice, staying hidden.

He cast his eyes around the trees, searching for me. He said nothing.

“Not yet?” I asked. Then unleashed the spells I had been preparing. 

Two Oblivion gates tore open, and two Dremora stalked into the clearing; trailing black shadows as they circled Ondolemar. He flinched and brought his blade up in front of him. I said another word, and my warriors unsheathed their Daedric blades; glowing red with infernal power. They circled a little closer to Ondolemar, but waited for my orders perfectly. They would be laughing gleefully after this little charade. To finish off my show, I dropped without a sound from a nearby tree and allowed the shadows to trail off my shoulders as I approached him. I flicked my wrist, and buried his borrowed dagger in the dirt at his feet. He jumped back in surprise, and his eyes were a little wild as he watched me step closer.

I then summoned all my electric power, and it lifted me from the ground in burning, static bolts and spiderweb veins. With a sharp wind, two Bound Blades shimmered into my hands and I too circled Ondolemar; ready to strike. I stared at him as I would an arch enemy; letting him glimpse the endless well of Dragonborn power deep within me. I wouldn’t be showing him that just yet, but just a glimpse. It worked. Ondolemar’s eyes widened in fear, and he took a step back. With a shout, I shot forward and attacked him again; this time with more speed and even allowing a few attacks from my warriors. He responded with magic this time as well, sending out ice spikes and fire to counter my spells. I switched between my blades and my magic, forcing him to do the same. I was relentless, and I wanted to exhaust him. I wanted him to fear me like he should. 

Finally, Ondolemar summoned what looked to be a powerful destruction spell. A fireball the size of my front door grew between his palms, and beads of sweat broke out over his brow. I quickly banished my warriors and created a force field around Ondolemar. This would cause some collateral damage. Nevertheless, I was impressed. I threw my arms wide and prepared for the explosion; expanding my shield around him. Then with a shout, Ondolemar released the fiery explosion. I hovered high above the ground, and forced the fire into a pillar with my shields, sending a blast of flame high into the evening sky. It roared, seared the tops of the nearby trees and dissipated in a cloud of smoke. Ondolemar only gaped at me, then fell to one knee in exhaustion.

I slowly lowered myself to the ground beside him as he stared at me, and let my power emanate unchecked. I could feel him send out a magical probe in awe, and I pushed from deep within me to reveal a little more. His eyes met mine; wide, glazed and full with a mixture of fear and…admiration? He sat down heavily on the ground, letting his blade clatter down beside him. He didn’t take his eyes off mine. I stood over him, offering my most dangerous stare.

“Curiosity can be a dangerous thing Ondolemar; unless you are prepared. So I ask you this; are you prepared?” I asked quietly.

He said nothing for a moment, only breathing and watching me. Then he stood smoothly, and his gaze leveled with mine.

“If you teach me, I will be; my lady.” He bowed to me reverently; leaving me at a loss for words.

Teach him?

This was ridiculous! After a stunned beat of silence, I turned on my heel and strode back into the manor without another word. If scaring him myself was not enough, then I’d get something else to do it. I unlocked the sealed compartment of my desk, and pulled out an old map of ancient locations throughout Skyrim. These marked where I could find more sources of power. Along with the power, however; came a very particular and deadly danger. I’d teach Ondolemar a little of what I knew; he deserved at least a small chance. Then, I would test him with this. He stepped quietly into my office, and I quickly rolled up the map. 

“Have I upset you, Azrielle?” he asked. His silver hair was messy and tousled from our sparring match; his skin glistened so appealingly that my mouth went dry. 

“No. You’ve asked me to prepare you, and so I shall. A week from now, you will accompany me on a personal task. If you are prepared, you might return. If not…” I trailed off.

I leaned against my desk and crossed my arms; waiting for his reply. I willed coldness into my voice as I added, “Do you understand, Ondolemar?”

He stood silently for a moment; watching my unflinching gaze, then nodded once.

“Good. We begin your training at dawn.” I replied softly.

“What is the task?” Ondolemar asked, as I filled two cups of water.

He accepted the water and took a deep mouthful; tucking a few strands of his hair behind one arched ear.

“You will know it when you see it; so prepare well.” I said simply. 

He came over and leaned against the desk next to me. We stood in silence like that for a while, both quietly watching the trees out the window together.


End file.
